The Nights That Never Die
by Ridgeline
Summary: Short scenes and stories from the universe of You've Got Time. Largely unconnected and not in chronological order. T for violence, language, and alcohol.
1. Our Old Reckless Ways

**In Which Azra Does a Kidnapping**

* * *

Don't believe everything happiness says  
Nothing's as real as our old reckless ways  
When we drink by the fires, the burning car tires  
Bad girls and good liars, the dreams we conspired  
The days we went crazy, the nights wild and hazy  
Man how in the hell'd we get here?

Old School - Hedley

* * *

August 21, 2951, 04:12; The Last City, Earth

The day started with a kidnapping.

The Tower was surprisingly difficult to scale. Azra tried to limit the distance- she climbed down from a lounge several stories above the target instead of up from the nearest observation deck. She picked her way carefully, focused wholly on the feeling of her fingers on the metal and the distribution of weight between her feet. The handholds, though solid, were few and far between. Everything was cold and wet with morning dew.

Cold? Wet? That was par for the course as far as Azra was considered. The real trick was opening the window quietly. That was the whole reason they'd chosen this method instead of the door- the door creaked. Azra was half-convinced Cayde put grit in the hinges to make it louder.

The window was locked from the inside. It would have stopped a human, but it was no issue for Spark. Azra slowly, _slowly_ eased the pane open. The trick was not rushing it. The waiting at times could feel maddening, but you could almost never go slow enough. One big change might wake the target, but a dozen small ones could slip by his unconscious attention.

So Azra got the window opened after a few minutes and slipped inside. If this were a larger operation, she'd tie a rope off and drop it to the next balcony down. As it was, this was only a one-person job, and they didn't want to leave anything behind. Azra slid the window closed again and locked it.

Sundance's eye flickered to dim awareness as Azra slipped across the room. It would be too much to hope the Ghost would remain asleep. Azra put a finger to her lips and Sundance raised no alarms.

One weakness Azra could exploit was Sundance's trust. Not many people could sneak in through the window and go unquestioned. The second weakness was that Cayde slept on his stomach, and he slept deeply. It was easy to slowly draw his hands behind his back and loop a cord around his wrists.

Unfortunately, tightening the knots roused him. He shifted and a mumbling rasp made its way out of his mouth. Azra scrambled for the blindfold. She yanked it around his optics just as they booted.

"What the-" he jerked on his restraints, hard. But it was too late. Spark hit the transmat. The cool darkness of Cayde's room was swapped for the cool darkness of Shiro's jumpship.

"Punch it!" Azra commanded. She couldn't see all the way to the pilot's cabin, but she didn't need to confirm Shiro had heard her. The ship lurched into motion. Azra shoved Cayde into a passenger's chair.

Tevis was there to help restrain the Gunslinger. He was becoming a bit of a problem now that he was actually awake. Azra took a precious second to make sure Sundance had made the jump with them (she had), then her attention was diverted when Cayde pulled a knife from a sheath hidden in his waistband. The Arcstrider whisked it from his fingers and tossed it to her Ghost.

_Just a few more minutes_, Spark urged in her mind. The ship was really speeding up now. It was hard to both keep her footing and keep a hold of the still-thrashing Gunslinger. One of his feet swept out and snagged her ankle, sending her sprawling. She didn't have to look to see his Light waxing Solar. Shadows cast by an orange fire jittered around the cargo hold.

"Calm _down_," Tevis growled. Suddenly, Cayde's yells melted into vocal static, like the open end of an empty comms channel. The orange light faded.

Azra finally got her feet underneath her again and moved to help. The Gunslinger was slumped over in his chair. Tevis had a glimmering purple hand braced across the back of the Exo's neck. The Nightstalker's eyes were unnervingly violet. "Hate doing this," he muttered. A chill went up Azra's spine that wasn't entirely due to the cold air in the ship. Cayde looked like a puppet with his strings cut.

"He'll forgive you," Azra said, shaking off the eerie feeling. A little naptime was a small price to pay for the plans they'd laid in.

"Forty-five seconds to transmat!" Shiro shouted from the cockpit.

"Take your time," Azra replied. "We've got it handled back here."

* * *

?

The first thing Cayde noticed was the heat. His brain struggled to add up the facts- it wasn't this hot where he'd last been. It was not often the Hunter Vanguard woke up not knowing where he was.

His optics booted after a half-second, revealing blurred greens and tannish gray. He was lying on a patch of dried-out grassy dirt. His brain cataloged the scents of dust and scummy water and… licorice? His senses were jumbled.

His limbs moved without him needing to think. The world swayed and steadied as he pushed himself upright. His hands checked on instinct- gun on his belt, cloak on his shoulders, his Ghost-

"Up and at 'em, sleepyhead. We're wasting daylight."

He spun to face the (very familiar) voice. Azra had been the one to speak. His eyes found her automatically, and he relaxed a bit. Her hood was pushed back and she leaned against a tree. (Tree?) Tevis crouched next to her, checking the firing mechanism on an Auto Rifle. Shiro was discussing something with his Ghost. They were on the edge of some field where the summer sun had baked the grass into submission. The earth around them was trampled.

Sundance appeared over his shoulder and helpfully informed him that they were near Rome, it was his birthday, and that he should start booby-trapping his window at night.

Shiro-4 let his Ghost go and turned back to face Cayde. "We wanted to take you on a picnic for your birthday. You know, since you can't get out much. Sorry for the kidnapping."

"Not sorry," Azra countered, grinning. "That was _fun_. And now you've got plausible deniability about sneaking out."

Cayde rubbed the back of his neck and sorted through the memories. There was an obvious flaw in the plan. "Uh, not that I'm complaining, or anything, but the deniability kinda loses its shine when I can just make you to take me back."

Something was up. Shiro bounced on the balls of his feet. "Oh no," he drawled in obviously-fake disappointment. "It seems I have already sent my jumpship away. Do either of you have yours?"

Azra shrugged, still too happy herself. "Why would I bring mine, when you were driving? I guess I'll call it." She held out a hand for her Ghost, who appeared and dryly reported the bad news.

"It appears long-range comms have been blocked. House Devils have a communications hub set up near here, they're jamming all Guardian signals."

"Such a shame," Shiro said. "If only we'd known, we could have called in backup. Hitched a ride back to the City. Guess our only option is to bike back."

Tevis stood, finally done with his gun-work, and shook his head. "The jammer blocks transmat signals. No Sparrows. We'll have to walk."

"I've got a bright idea," Azra said. "Why don't we blow up the jammer? Then we could call in our ships, easy. It would be faster than walking out of range. It's twenty miles west to get a clear signal."

"You mean," Shiro gasped (he was having entirely too much fun), "that our best option is to storm the House of Devils den? Just the four of us?" His Ghost, Pace, unloaded a pile of gear onto the ground. Besides the usual breaching charges, transmitters, and grenades, there were a few odds and ends- a rocket launcher, a few submachine guns, a helmet modified to fit a horned head. Perfectly suited to cover the gaps in what a tower-bound Hunter might not carry day-to-day. "But we're completely unprepared!" the Bladedancer said with glee.

_Alright_, Cayde had to admit, _the plan is basically foolproof_. The path was clear for him to skate by with no repercussions. All he had to do was make a show of being upset and hand out a few punishments after they got back. "So who's taking the fall for masterminding this thing?"

"I hear the Vanguard has some scouting missions nobody's too eager to take," Azra said, "Europa's so _boring_. And after all that excitement with that House of Winter Archon Priest, I'm not sure I could take a few weeks of quiet mapping. Oh well. At least Shiro and Tevis can claim they were just following orders."

"Daylight's wasting," Tevis grumbled. He shifted his feet, antsy to get moving. "What do you say?"

Cayde picked up the helmet and slid it on. It was one of his spares, perfectly fitted. "Best. Birthday present. Ever."

* * *

August 21, 2951, 13:14, House of Devils den, Rome, Earth

This was the best of all of them, Tevis thought.

Shiro called out troop movements, sometimes translating the Fallen comms and sometimes predicting their moves on his own. His Ghost, Pace, hacked the consoles they came across. He called out priority targets. Somewhere in the random crossfire, his sidearm took a hit. The Bladedancer swore in perfectly-pronounced Eliksni and sought revenge with ruthless efficiency.

Cayde crowed challenges and taunts at their enemy, doing flashy gun twirls and sidesteps and always, always making his shots. He was dazzling: blinding, yet impossible to look away from. He drew a lot of attention, but he dodged the Scorch Cannon bolts with a skip in his step, forever another joke or comment to reply.

Azra was everywhere. Up front, in back, scattering the Fallen and leaving sparking ashes in her wake. Nothing could land a hit on her. Tevis took an arc bolt to the leg and she was just _there,_ suddenly, protective Light buzzing like ozone and frozen starlight on his tongue. When she pushed, Tevis had to sprint to keep up.

And him? He'd never admit it, but he was the most comfortable here, with the bullets whizzing by his head like angry hornets. He understood quiet, wore stealth like a second cloak, but nothing could beat this power, this momentum his fireteam gave him. There was nothing bad here, no inevitability they couldn't shatter together.

* * *

It was all music to Shiro's ears (or audio sensors, or whatever). The triple-fire of his sidearm, the crackle on the feed, the frantic Eliksni orders and reports were the usual melody.

The harmony made it sweeter- the short chirping bursts of Azra's Mythoclast, the rattle of Tevis's Auto Rifle, their two Submachine Guns, distinct in tenor. The occasional Arcstrider-whir and Nightstalker-hiss were the sounds of safety in his subconscious. Only his pack sounded like this.

Distinct in his attention was the hole that was filled. Every bark of the Ace of Spades caught Shiro just a bit off-guard, in the best way. He'd think, somewhere in the back of his head, I wish _Cayde had been here to see that_, only to be surprised when the Vanguard called out a compliment over the roar of battle. His Golden Gun rang like a bell.

The tempo of the song sped and slowed, the dynamics faded and grew, but the song was the same as it had always been. It was victory, and success, and power, and it meant everything was right with the world.

* * *

It was here, in the middle of a Fallen nest, with their screeches filling the air so much it seemed to muffle the gunfire and drown the world in ether-stained Darkness, that Azra realized she felt safe.

Because she had Shiro to her left and Cayde was at her back, and their crackling, burning Lights sang in harmony as they worked. She knew, in some deep part of her she'd thought had given up believing, that they wouldn't let her down. If they were here beside her, nothing could happen. Her trust in them overpowered her fear that the universe was going to screw her over again.

And it was there, in the tunnel that smelled of rot and machine oil, where the ground squelched and shifted under her feet, with mud caking her shins and back, that Azra realized she felt powerful.

She saw the shot just before she heard Tevis's grunt on the comms. A particularly lucky (or unlucky) Arc blast caught the Nightstalker in the thigh. He fell into an awkward crouch, alone before the Fallen. Azra was there in an instant with a grenade and her Mythoclast. Tevis's Ghost was already attending to the wound.

It ran two ways, the trust. They were all here for her, and she could be there for them. Part of the sweet surety of the moment was that she knew they were safe too. She could keep them safe.

She could read in Tevis's Light that he was fine, but she cast a precious glance back at him anyway. Their eyes met behind their respective visors. Tevis rose from his crouch with a nod. The Fallen were seeking cover now, startled by the rapid approach.

Cayde's voice over the comms: "Azra, sicc!"

She answered with her Staff. No Fallen could offer a second retort.

* * *

They ran into heavy Fallen resistance, but Cayde was having a very hard time being upset about it. There was just something about a firefight that couldn't be captured in the heat of the Crucible.

There weren't Scorch Cannons there, for one thing (maybe Cayde could talk Shaxx into something), and _damn_ were they fun to dodge. The looks on the Captain's faces when he spun to the side like some pre-Golden-Age matador were always good.

But really, it was nice to just let go. Stop wrangling with his instincts, drop the careful eye on his reputation, just be in the moment. Ace in his hand seemed to move of its own will, finding shot after shot in the smoky, Fallen-stuffed tunnels. The Firefly explosions always hit a half-second after. It set up a nice rhythm.

He'd known he'd missed this, in theory, but he hadn't realized exactly how much. There was something there, between the smells and the echoes and the familiar movements of battle he wore in his bones- that was impossible to capture on a feed. This was very real, and he felt more alive than he had in months.

They pillaged their way forward, through main tunnels and side-passages, never stopping, never faltering. It was just like old times. The Crew was legendary, and there was a reason for that. A strike of this scope, this deep into Fallen territory, with disabled comms? The Vanguard wouldn't consider a fireteam of less than six. Just the four of them were routing the Fallen and having an absolute time of it.

He was almost sad when they reached the main Fallen comms relays. Lucky, they had enough explosives on them for a very pretty fireball.

And maybe he set the timer a bit short, so their exit was hasty and breathless.

And maybe he left enough explosives behind to collapse the entire structure.

And maybe he took everything that wasn't nailed down, dropping the more worthless items for space as he found expensive parts and rolls of sapphire wire. Everything not stolen would be lost, after all.

And maybe he found himself approximately twenty-thousand glimmer richer, sitting in a smoking pile with his family, laughing his ass off as Azra scolded him for not using a remote detonator.

And maybe he wasn't in bad spirits when they had to return to the Tower. Maybe he was happy.

* * *

August 21, 2951, 15:54; The Last City, Earth

There was a debrief and a scolding waiting for Azra back at the tower. It took Zavala a few minutes to get over his disbelief at the heist they'd pulled off, but after that he was quick to get to his reprimands. Shiro and Tevis looked a bit guilty as they placed the blame squarely on Azra's shoulders.

She glared at them through her helmet. They'd had a _plan_. Feeling bad about it now was like apologizing for someone buying you dinner. Azra would have told them off for their shamefaces if she wasn't receiving a tirade herself. She hoped Zavala would think her glower was at his speech. It was obvious Cayde saw through it, from his giddy expression.

Azra found Ikora Rey watching her. Zavala was still going on of the importance of leadership and something about safety- the Arcstrider mostly ignored it. Cayde cut in every now and again with a few token words Azra could tell he didn't mean. Ikora Rey just looked at her silently.

* * *

_Azra wasn't bothered with the mind-reading, but the way Ikora looked at her with interest slid a thin edge of discomfort between her ribs. "It's not from the Vault," she said as a ward. She wasn't used to having to watch her thoughts as well as her words._

_"Don't, then," Ikora said. "I value honesty. You won't hurt my feelings."_

* * *

Azra purposefully turned her attention away. She looked at Zavala, all stone and steel and annoyance, but more perplexed frustration than true anger. She thought he might even be grateful, if duty didn't demand that he enforce the rules. They'd done good work, if outside the system, but it was his job to uphold that system. Azra could respect that.

She let her eyes slide over one person and linger. Look how Cayde stood lighter, less weight on his shoulders, more animated. Feel how his Light moved more fiercely. Something had stoked the coals of his enthusiasm back into flame. Azra Jax knew every mood Cayde had, and this one… he was happy. Happier than he'd been in a while. He was riding high even as he scolded her.

She turned her focus back to Ikora and plainly thought, _I'd do it again. I know the price, and I'd do it again, for him_. She wasn't afraid to let show how much she cared for the Gunslinger. She knew Ikora shared at least a little bit of fondness.

"Enough," Ikora interrupted, not unkindly. "I'm sure they get the point, Zavala. And after all, this is a victory. Nothing bad happened."

"It could have," the Titan countered. Azra could tell he didn't have much heart behind it. As Vanguard Commander, he couldn't let the disrespect fly, even if he wasn't that upset about the literal events.

"They are all very competent Guardians, with shining track records," Ikora pointed out. Azra suppressed a snigger and very carefully did not think of the hundreds of bits of mischief she had seen through.

Cayde sighed and shook his head. "Still. Uncool," he obviously did not think it was uncool, "going behind the Vanguard's back. Take two weeks and give me a five-hundred-word essay on the importance of the Vanguard and how it supports you in your everyday life."

Azra's stomach dropped and she straightened from her slouch. Essay?

Cayde winked. "I'll take high-fidelity maps of the Beta and Delta sections of the Talos settlement as substitution. Now shoo. Don't let me see you back here for fourteen days."

Azra took it gratefully and hightailed it out, heart still beating fast from the adrenaline.

_You got scared by an essay,_ Spark teased.

"Shut up," she said, failing to put any venom into it.

She was glad she was still wearing a helmet so nobody could see her smile.


	2. The Pain I Feel

Note: Happy late Dawning! Have some angst.

* * *

**In Which Azra Masters the Golden Gun**

* * *

I can't contain the pain I feel  
But if it doesn't hurt it isn't real  
Living in the world ablaze  
The hunt is over, I'm in chains

Requiem for a Hunter – Aviators

* * *

October 19, 2950; Southern Aphrodite Terra, Venus

The mission wasn't supposed to be very difficult. This was a two-Guardian affair, maybe three. Not super complicated.

Yet Azra found herself in a fireteam of four. Instead of Shiro at her side, she had two fresh-off-the-presses Hunters and one young Titan stuck so far in her comfort zone she was still calling Azra 'sir' after the fifth time the Arcstrider reminded her she held no official rank.

Azra hated Kinderguardian duty. This wasn't the first time she'd drawn the short straw with the schedules. The Arcstrider didn't really mind the company, or the endless questions, or the dumb salutes and rigid doctrine. She hated the babysitting. It was an endless tug of war between her impulse to protect the bumbling newbies and the knowledge that some failure would teach them lessons. She had a healthy respect for Andal's lot in life now, watching the Nightstalker Nadir stand smack in the middle of sight lines to reload, or having to haul Brigid's butt out of trouble again and again when she kept charging into fights above her paygrade. It was very stress-inducing.

But it was routine at this point. A standard search-and-destroy op. Straightforward, even though Azra had to keep much of her attention focused on the Kinderguardians so they didn't lag behind or get killed for real. She'd abandoned any stealth plans thirty seconds after their first briefing, but that made things simple, in a way.

Simple, until the moment Cayde got on the comms. They had eliminated the target (Draviks, King Baron) and were looting his Ketch when the Hunter Vanguard entered the channel. Lucky Azra already had the sound turned down. Cayde gave no warning or fanfare before he started yelling.

"You guys gotta get out of there. _Now_! Clear the ship!" Scared. Worried. Very un-Cayde.

Normally, the Hunter Vanguard was sly and easygoing during missions. Even when things got a little out of hand, he just got sarcastic. It was calming, in a way, that he never got serious. He wasn't exactly as... _helpful_ as Andal had been, but it at least kept morale up.

Except when he yelled. The other to Hunters were already wide-eyed and tense. The Titan was frowning. Azra shook her head, gathered her things, and motioned for her three tag-alongs to form up. "What's up?"

Cayde's voice had the slightest bit of static to it- the Fallen systems were interfering with their earpieces. "Head south, as fast as you can, take the first exit you find. Your ships are inbound. This is above your pay grade."

Azra hated it when people were cagey with the intel. Surely there was no better way to motivate her than to tell her what she was up against?

The cageyness turned out to be ineffective anyway; they were only halfway out when Spark got a ping on the radar. A familiar ping, to his surprise. "It's… Taniks the Scarred? But he's dead!"

* * *

_"He's bigger than I thought he'd be," Azra said, eyeing the figure with some skepticism. She'd expect the houseless outcasts to be Ether-starved, but it looked like this one was getting three square meals a day and then some._

_Cayde tugged at her cape. "Hush, get down. You can't do anything, alright? It'd mess up the Dare something awful if you got the kill. Any kills."_

_"Then why am I here, Cayde?"_

_"You're the witness. And insurance."_

* * *

"Yeah, well not anymore," Cayde growled. "Move your butts."

She rolled her eyes but shooed the greenhorns on anyway. Cayde wasn't one to overreact like this. Overreact in general? Yes. But he was not the type to err on the side of caution.

"You sure it's Taniks? I was there when you shot him, Cayde. That ain't exactly the kind of thing you walk away from." The events of that day were well-remembered and smooth in her head, like worn fidget beads. Taniks' death had a large impact on her life.

Spark was still perplexed. He shuffled through files, trying to find an explanation. "He's been up and down five times, so the city archives claim. But half of the articles on him are locked. What did this guy _do_?"

"Just get your butts out of there." Cayde had his fretful voice on now, clipped words and soft consonants.

Azra _hated_ being the only experienced one on missions. The Kinderguardians didn't know Ketch ships like she did, and if Cayde was to be believed, a fast exit would be necessary. Yet her leading left no-one competent guarding the rear. The vulnerability of it itched her, but there was little she could do but move fast and hope nothing caught up with them.

Despite her worry, they cleared the ship just fine. The emergency exits were clearly marked in Eliksni, if you knew how to read it. Just a few problems: Their ships were still minutes away, and it wouldn't be that long before the Fallen still in the ship organized themselves. Inside the ship was a very bad place to be. But Tanik's crew had already set up positions near the front of the Ketch, so outside the ship was also a bad place to be. The fireteam of four ended up pinned down behind a reasonably-sized boulder just past the door. The empty field between them and the Fallen provided very little else for cover.

"Wonder if I've still got Fallen bounties on my head," Azra mused as she took stock of the situation. Nadir and Ram-15 were panicking, as newbies tended to do. At least the Titan Brigid still had her wits about.

Azra cleared her throat to get their attention. "Alright folks, keep your Ghosts close. This guy's a meanie. We'll leapfrog this. Three of us lay covering fire while the other goes ahead. Save your smoke bomb, Nadir, unless you need it." She peeked over the boulder to try and get a read. A wire rifle shot chipped the stone next to her head. She ducked back. Maybe a helmet would be a good idea.

"And really try not to die," she said as an afterthought, "that'd make things... complicated. Let's take this steady, alright? Brigid first. Then Nadir, then Ram." The Striker was the most likely to stay cool and find good cover. "I'll stay last, once you're all clear I can go invisible."

"You can turn invisible?" Nadir asked with some wonder.

Azra winked. "Old Nightstalker trick. Maybe I'll show you sometime." She slid on her helmet and booted the HUD. The radar was filled with red.

She turned the Vanguard feed to just her comms. No distractions for the Kinderguardians. Cayde was giving _orders_ now. "I want you guys out of there before Taniks gets your position. You very much do have Fallen bounties on your head."

"Cayde, I get you're still freaked out about my newly not-dead status, but chill. I'm pretty sure I can hold off Taniks just fine."

"You don't know what this guy's been up to. And you're in a pretty bad position." Truth, and truth. Azra's estimations still put her up, though. Not even a Kell could get her and all her fireteam in the little time it would take their transport to get here.

Brigid went, running crouched-over for a dip in the ground behind them. Azra unloaded her Machine Gun across the field, with the two others following suit. The Titan made it alright. Azra could see the path she'd picked out. There was an upturned chunk of ground a dozen more meters back, and then they'd have only a short gauntlet to round the rear end of the ship.

"Azra…" Spark began. _Private channel_, he whispered in her mind. She slapped Nadir on the back in encouragement and sent her on her way. Spark continued. "The locks on Taniks aren't all-exclusive like Rezyl or Osiris. They're specific. Someone thought a few people, maybe even just us, shouldn't know about Taniks. And… I found a reference in the Archives."

"Get on with it," she growled.

"It's a footnote, really. But Taniks has a bounty on him. For killing the Hunter Vanguard."

"Kauko Swiftriver?" Azra guessed. Ram-15 had collected himself and was waiting for her signal. Azra nodded once Brigid was safely in her new cover. The Fallen were recovering from their surprise, they'd have to be fast.

"No. Not Kauko. The next one."

He meant Andal.

Oh.

Well, it made sense both why Cayde wanted her clear so badly, and why he didn't want to tell her why. The fact that Azra didn't get to enact any revenge on whatever killed Andal was still a sore point between them.

All the secrecy was probably a good decision, really. Her anger still burned, undulled by time. The already-dry ground singed beneath her hands. Hatred welled in her throat like poisonous bile.

This wasn't just any murderer they were talking about. This was _Andal's_ murderer. The sweet, silly Light that was the leader of her Pack. His groundedness, his support, all his dumb bets and crazy plans and unreasonable love of the letter 'a'-

* * *

_-But don't sell yourself short, Jax." He took the compact square and tossed it into the banked coals before them. It smoldered and browned for a second before bursting into flames. Azra watched as the words turned to ash._

_"…Okay," she agreed. Andal slung a warm arm around her shoulders. With his other hand, he flipped back the page and continued scrawling his notes._

* * *

Every warm night, every thrilling day, dead. Gone. Snuffed by that creature across the field.

_Oh_, how she wanted Taniks dead. The grievous wound in her life demanded nothing less. How could she say no to her rage, when she still wore a red stripe on her cloak? When she _still_ had a folder of dumb jokes she'd saved up but never sent him? When _every day_ was spent dancing around that sudden gap in her life?

But she took a mental step back from the edge. Azra was responsible now, and her (lack of) time in the Vault taught her patience. She knew the responsible thing to do would be to stick to the plan, high-tail it out of there, and hunt Taniks down on a later occasion.

And she probably would have done just that, if Taniks hadn't teleported smack-dab in the middle of the battlefield and aimed his scorch cannon at Nadir. The young Nightstalker fumbled in surprise and tripped. Taniks cackled. Azra knew death when she saw it.

Every part of her rejected the moment she knew was coming. No. Just, _no_. She was not sitting and watching the mercenary that killed Andal kill one of the Kinderguardians under her care.

Azra stepped out of cover. Her shout echoed off of rocks and smooth ship walls. Shouting wasn't smart, but she wanted to see his face. Bullets whizzed through the air around her, but none found their mark.

And then there he was: Taniks the Scarred. Murderer, defiler, six times living and five times dead. She'd make that score even.

Azra didn't have time or mind to say more words. The heat was insistent. The heat of her anger, of her loss. The wound was fresh, like it had happened yesterday, instead of five months ago (instead of eight years ago (instead of a cold, damp eternity ago)). She reached out and made a gun from her heart, like Andal had taught her. The fire burned through her senses, and she could feel nothing but the flames, smell nothing but the acrid smoke of hatred, see nothing but Taniks as he stood.

She fired, then again. And again. And _again_. Each shot was like a punch in the gut, a knife in the heart. _Andal, Andal_, the gun sang. My leader, my friend, my _brother_. She shot her anger, and when she ran out of that, her sorrow. Too soon, her sorrow ran dry, and she made bullets from bitterness and fire and sent them screaming across the broken ground to burn him. Each time, the gun kicked up. Each time, she brought it back to the blurred outline of a slumped Fallen Captain that was the only thing she could make out.

She counted in her head as the shots rang out, as her vision dimmed and her breath hitched. Her lungs burned. She couldn't feel her hands. And still she shot. Nine. Ten. Eleven. There was a hot bit of metal sunk into her heart, raw and persistent, where Andal should have been. Twelve. Thirteen. Four-

"Enough!" That was Spark. The gun outright shattered in Azra's hands, flecks of unused power winking in and out like lost fireflies. Thirteen, then. The number seemed fitting somehow. Unlucky. Was thirteen enough?

Her knees were numb as she dropped to them. There was muffled shouting, somewhere. Azra struggled to draw breath around the knot of nothingness in her ribcage where the fire used to be. It was all-consuming, like a black hole. She couldn't feel the sun above her or the rubble bits digging into her shoulder. She hadn't the strength left to kneel.

There were hands on her, under her arms, dragging her away. She couldn't even put up a weak protest. Ship engines whined overhead. Guardian or Fallen?

The question was answered when Spark transmatted them into the passenger hold of a Jumpship. Familiar. It was her passenger hold, her Jumpship. Azra curled into a ball against the cool leather of her seat, more numb than anything else. She supposed someone was at the controls, because the ship pulled a rib-crushing turn and accelerated away.

"What was that?" someone asked in amazement. Azra was too tired to sort out who it was. Their voice was muted by the helmet and the pounding in her ears.

Someone else was laughing, high and jittery. It rode the line between nervous and giddy. "I thought I was a goner for sure! Then bam-bam-bam! How many was that? Ten? Never heard of anything like that before!"

Azra pulled her hood down further, closed her eyes, and tried not to throw up. The adrenaline high was fading to an insistent throbbing pain in the base of her skull. Her tongue felt dry and about twice as large as it was supposed to be. The palms of her hands burned. And still her chest hurt, heart like a sore fingertip.

Andal was still dead, after all. No Golden Gun could solve that now.

"Plotting a course to the Last City," the third person said. Azra could raise no voice in protest.

* * *

TYPE: GUARDIAN CUSTOMS PROJECT  
PARTIES: Two [2]. One [1] Guardian-type, Class Hunter, designate Cayde-6 [c6]; One [1] Guardian-type, Class Hunter, designate Azra Jax [aj]  
ASSOCIATIONS: Brask, Andal; Cayde-6; Fallen; Jax, Azra; Malphur, Shin; Taniks the Scarred; Vault of Glass [Venus]; Vex;  
CUSTOMS ASSOCIATIONS: Dare [Vanguard]; Death, Final; Gunslinger [Hunters]; Justice; Murder; Pack [Hunters]; Revenge  
/AUDIO UNAVAILABLE/  
/TRANSCRIPT FOLLOWS.../

[c6:01]: That was stupid.

[aj:01]: I didn't care.

[c6:02]: Well, do you care now?

[aj:02]: Doesn't matter, does it? Taniks is dead.

[c6:03]: That's what I thought last time, and the time before that, and the time before that. Bastard always seems to find a way back.

[aj:03]: I wonder if that's how the Fallen feel about us. They keep trying to kill us, but we keep coming back.

[c6:04]: There are quite a few Guardians who aren't coming back, because of him.

[aj:04]: Why do you think I did it? He killed Andal. I would've burned my soul just for revenge.

[c6:05]: Still, it was stupid. I myself have put more than a few bullets in him for Andal, and even I think what you did was stupid. We had his position; it'd have been easy enough to tail him and wait for more reinforcements.

[beat]

[c6:06]: Y'know, instead of going all Shin Malphur on his ass while you and your fireteam are supposed to be running for it.

[aj:05]: He was gunning for one of the rookies. And it got the job done.

[c6:07]: And nearly killed you too, in the process. I lost one pack-mate to that son of a bitch. That's enough.

[silence]

[c6:08]: Still, I gotta say that was impressive. Probably set some sorta record.

[silence]

[c6:09]: Y'know, it's hard to tell what you're thinking these days.

[aj:06]: I wasn't there.

[silence]

[c6:11]: None of us were.

[aj:07]: I should have been. I would have been.

[c6:12]: Can't say that for sure. Can't say that we wouldn't have just lost the both of you.

[aj:08]: The Vex messed with a lot of things, rewrote some futures and some pasts. I feel like I should've been _there_, instead of stuck in a Vault with a bunch of Light-forsaken, cursed, fucking toaster hivemind pox on the universe.

[c6:13]: Come on, tell me how you really feel.

[aj:09]: [laughter]

[silence]

[aj:10]: It's a bit calmer, up here away from it all.

[c6:14]: The view tends to grow on ya.

[aj:11]: …I'm sorry. I was just so angry. And scared. I was going to retreat, I swear, but then…

[c6:15]: I understand. I think you out of everyone has a right to be angry. Just try and remember you've got more pack to fight for, now.

[aj:12]: Nice try, still not gonna take the Dare.

[c6:16]: Damn.


	3. The Opening of Eyes

**In Which Tevis Uses His Bow**

* * *

It's not the waking, it's the rising  
It is the grounding of a foot uncompromising  
It's not forgoing of the lie  
It's not the opening of eyes  
It's not the waking, it's the rising

Nina Cried Power – Hozier

* * *

?

He was raised in pure darkness and absolute silence. Honestly, it wasn't much different from being dead. The only sensory input he had was the soft coolness of the air on his face and the hard ground beneath him.

The dimmest of lights edged into his field of view, and he realized his eyes were open. And he realized he had eyes. And he realized he had a head, and shoulders, and a body.

He sat up. "Welcome back," the light whispered. She sounded nice. "You have been dead a while. I know this is confusing."

He tried to speak, but the words he wanted to say stuck in his windpipe. He coughed and experienced the sensation of taste for the first time as something coated his tongue and throat. _Dirt_, his brain told him.

He knew he shouldn't know that, but he didn't know how. "Why am I in a cave?" he finally got out. How did he know he was in a cave?

"Humanity has suffered a great catastrophe," the light said. "You died. You have been dead for decades. You might have been seeking shelter, but we are _very_ deep underground. I don't know."

"I don't remember any of that," he rasped. He wanted something to wash the taste of decay from his mouth, but he didn't have anything on him besides some thin clothing. There was nothing around him but stone and a thin layer of washed-up clay.

"You wouldn't," the light said. "From what I understand, you Risen don't remember much of anything from your first lives."

"Risen," he tried the word out. "I am Risen?"

"One of many," the light said, "but not enough. I am a Ghost. Your Ghost, more specifically." She drifted a bit closer and deposited something on the floor. It was a plastic card of some kind. "This was the only thing you had with you that hasn't rotted away. I think it's yours."

The Risen picked it up. The Ghost shifted herself so he could study it by her light. It was very scratched, but he could make out the name. There was a picture on it, and a date of birth that made no sense.

"Does it look like me?" the Risen asked.

The Ghost shifted herself again, looking him in the face. He squinted against her flashlight before she remembered to dim it. "I think so," she said.

"I guess that's my name," the Risen said. Names were novel. Everything was _novel_. Even the idea of novelty. "What is your name?"

"I don't have one, yet," the Ghost said.

Tevis Larsen stood up. The world was silent, save for the beating of his heart and his breathing. The space loomed around him, so he spoke to fill it. "Okay, so I am alive. Now. Guess I wasn't earlier. And I'm in a cave. Should…"

"I think heading for the surface would be a good idea," the Ghost said. "You will starve eventually, and I think that would hurt."

Tevis Larsen nodded. He took the confusion and the curiosity and set it aside to wrestle with at a later date. He had a goal now: get to the surface.

As it turned out, Tevis Larsen was really good at caving.

* * *

Some Guardians believe those first few minutes, hours, days after being Risen are very important. You are a fresh slate, some would argue, those beginnings shape you and set you on your path. Others would say that a Guardian's personality and drive are inherent, that there is one true path set for you to follow, and it only takes time to find it.

Both would hold true for Tevis, in time.

It took him 28 hours to get out. His Ghost told him that. Underground, there was nothing to differentiate one moment from the next. He got lost too many times to count. Once, he was sure he had found a way to the surface, but it was several dozen meters up an unclimbable shaft. Eventually the smell of life and the barest glimmer of natural light lead him to an opening he _could_ climb through.

He emerged in the late afternoon of a stunningly clear day. His first experience with the Sun was being blinded by it. The warm kiss of its rays felt too hot after the cool of the underground. The wind whistled over stone like a banshee wailing. The sound of his breathing was swallowed up by the endless sky and the sound of foliage rustling.

Tevis Larsen was raised in pure darkness and absolute silence, and the world had seemed blinding ever since. So he thought, _Okay, if the world is too loud, I'll just be louder._

Tevis Larsen became what would be known as a Gunslinger. He was brash and loud. He danced and sang. He spoke of his travels often with both Humans and Risen. (With the Fallen, his gun did the talking.) He never stayed in one place for very long. At first, it was because he found himself at odds with the social niceties. He didn't know when to laugh at their jokes. He'd startle when they put a hand on his shoulder. People found him threatening, even if all he did was look them in the eyes.

But even after he learned when to laugh and that staring was rude, he kept moving. No matter how loud he yelled, life became too hot. Every strand that tethered him to a place, every acquaintance and favorite haunt and romantic fling burned too bright.

He found a few places he'd tentatively call his, where his name sounded like music on people's lips. He could leave for years at a time but was always welcomed back. He bounced around. Back then, he thought that might be the solution to living; spreading himself so thin that even he couldn't notice the chafing manacles the world placed on him. He knew companionship. He learned of storytelling and sewing and cooking from the people, and he taught them to fight. It was nice.

After his first village burned at Warlord hands, he learned how foolish he had been. The solitude had been a minor discomfort in comparison to the pain of loss. He killed everyone responsible, then picked himself up and kept moving. Shifting from place to place, like hopping from one foot to another on the hot sand. He'd show up, kill the local Fallen problem (or Risen problem, if it was bad), stay a few days, then leave, never to be seen again.

He wandered. Loneliness was so constant a companion he stopped noticing it. Centuries passed.

Eventually the City was founded, and he came to Tallulah Fairwind's call to defend it. She was a casual acquaintance, but basically the closest thing Tevis had to a friend. (A lot of Hunters were like that, in the early days. The world was larger back then.) Six Fronts was hard. He fought with many people. But once the Fallen retreated, he left. There was nothing to tie him to such a populous place.

He'd stay the night sometimes in a settlement or at some other Risen's camp (they were called Guardians at this point, but he stuck to the old ways). There was always some indescribable sense of friction that made him move on once morning broke. All the words he left unspoken burned heavy in his chest, like molten lead. It was a weight he struggled daily to carry, but carry it he did.

But even he couldn't stay friendless for three hundred years. People stuck around, too stubborn or too kind for their own good. He found himself enjoying their company, laughing at their jokes, _relaxing_. The thought terrified him. Risen were safer than mortals, untouched by time, but he knew intimately how easily they could die. He'd seen too much loss to bear.

He hadn't really thought about what would happen if he died first, until it happened.

* * *

March 23, 2789; The Cosmodrome, Earth

Tevis realized that this was it.

They'd been foolhardy, perhaps, to wander so deep into the Cosmodrome. In the end it would be a good thing for Humanity. Their Ghosts had gotten some emergency pings off. The City would know what they'd found, even if the Guardians never lived to deliver the news in person. This Hive nest was small yet. It could be wiped out with some organized effort.

It was still large enough to cause the fireteam of three Hunters significant troubles. Three Gunslingers had gone in, loud and joking and full of confidence. Now, two miles of caves and four hundred and twenty-seven Hive kills later, they were facing down certain death.

Cayde-6's left leg had been truncated messily below his knee by an explosion. He was sitting in a pool of hydraulic fluid and coolant. He leaked oil from a dozen other wounds over his frame. His horn was cracked and his left optic had gone out. He was considerably better off than Andal Brask still, who was dead. The older Gunslinger, ever the responsible one, had made the sacrifice play against the Knight they'd run afoul of. But there wasn't enough Light here to get him back up again. There wasn't even enough Light to heal the cut on Tevis's forehead or his mangled right wrist. They were so far from the Sun.

Cayde was babbling nonsense, patting Andal's face as if to wake him from a particularly deep sleep. Their two Ghosts settled nearby, internal Lights dim and helpless. Tevis's own Ghost hovered weakly over his shoulder. She had no more encouragement left to offer.

Cayde chocked on his own grief. For just a moment, there was absolute silence.

Then the screams began.

Tevis realized he was going to die. Really, truly realized it. He'd known it in theory, but theory was a different thing than looking down the Hive Wizard and her endless swarm of Thrall with nothing but a knife and a steel-toed boot to hold them off.

There was no hope. Before, in his centuries of exploring, there had always been a chance, a backup, another exit to try. Here, his knees were unsteady and the swarm of thrall blocked any hope of an escape. The dim lights of the Wizard's shields illuminated only the writhing hordes.

The sight was too much. He closed his eyes, rendering the world down to blackness. He couldn't lie well enough to dredge any optimism in his soul, so he accepted it. If he was going to die, he didn't want to be scared about it. They could take his life, but he refused to let them make him afraid. He'd always hated being afraid.

And there, in the dank tunnel some hundreds of meters below Earth's surface, Tevis found a sweet moment of peace.

And his fingertips tingled.

And his Ghost perked up, just a little bit.

There was icewater in Tevis's veins, but he didn't feel cold. It was strange; they were so deep underground, so far from the memory of the Sun's warm kiss. Farther still from the Traveler or any Guardians who could lend them strength. Yet, impossibly, he felt stronger.

But he didn't need the Sun. This cave was ancient, millions of years old. Like the cave he'd been Raised in. Maybe there was some force this structure could lend him, if the Sun was out of reach. All he'd have to do was listen.

His feet seemed to sink deeper into the Hive gunk on the floor. The cool, damp air only had one question to ask him. _What are you willing to give?_

Tevis didn't have to answer to know. There was a shape in his hand, and the shape was death. His death, maybe, but also theirs. When he drew the string back, it was not tension that fought his hand, but gravity.

And then Tevis realized he was going to live. Really, truly realized it. He knew in theory, but theory was a different thing than looking down the Hive Wizard with the end of all things in your hands and power making your bones hum like tuning forks.

Tevis Larsen was raised in pure darkness and absolute silence, but when he drew his Bow, he learned there more than one way of seeing and more than one way to listen.

* * *

They made it out that day, barely, staggering from inky Hive blackness into the weak sunlight of a Russian winter day. Their amor was shattered, ripped, held on with literal ribbons and bits of string. They had no working firearms between the three of them. Their troubles hadn't ended with the Wizard. Their troubles hadn't even ended when they made it out of the Hive nest- they nearly froze to death, soaked in cave mud and blood and sweat as they were, out in the winter cold. When backup finally arrived, it found them huddled in an overturned transport, blue-lipped and numb, hydraulics freezing up.

But they made it out. Cayde and Andal never mentioned the Bow. They made no comment the next time he pulled it in battle, or the next. Cayde would mock his fashion sense. He'd parody Tevis's accent. He'd start arguments for no damn reason, just to see Tevis angry. But he never once even gave Tevis the side-eye (or side-optic, as it was) for his newfound connections.

Others would exclaim surprise or barrage him with questions, but Andal did not. He gave Tevis space. He passed no judgment on the new Nighstalker, and did not appear to be reserving any. Until-

* * *

November 11, 2789; Near Old El Paso, Earth

"You seem happier now."

Tevis's eyes moved to find Andal, though the rest of his body stayed still. Neither of them had spoken for an hour. Andal Brask was always in his own head during the night and Tevis wasn't one to break silences. With Cayde gone, quiet ruled between them. The fire was the loudest thing at their small campsite, even though the dry wood didn't crackle much.

_You'll have to be more specific_, Tevis could have said. But he knew Andal Brask well enough, knew the thoughtful looks the Gunslinger had been shooting him as of late. "I suppose so," Tevis replied instead.

Andal nodded. Tevis realized the statement had been a question of sorts. He followed up. "Don't think I was much cut out for Solar, anyway."

"I'm just glad you finally found something that... suits you," Andal said. Tevis raised an eyebrow at the word _finally_. Andal shrugged with one shoulder, letting a lopsided grin slide onto his face. "Don't get me wrong, you were fantastic with the Gun. But I could see it was eating at you."

Tevis nodded, because had seen Guardians lose it like that before. They would burn out in glory or smolder in endless fire, commit suicide by risky missions and foolhardy revenge. He'd walked that line. But Andal was right, the burning regret and rage in his chest had gotten lighter. Maybe he'd found some acceptance in that Hive Tunnel along with his Bow.

"Add control was always something we had trouble dealing with, anyway," Andal continued on. His eyes twinkled in humor, shoulders so loose it was impossible to mistake him for seriousness. "Seriously, three Golden Guns? We could kill any Baron in the land, but a solid pack of Vandals could have posed a challenge. Plus, I _finally_ get to re-collect on that bet Cayde and I made."

"Bet?" Tevis said.

"Every new Hunter Cayde and I meet, we make a bet on what Subclass they are. He won, with you. Until now."

"We've known each other for seventeen years," Tevis protested. "Surely..."

"I'm patient," Andal replied, stretching his hands out towards the flame. He looked like a cat, flexing his fingers like that.

The Nightstalker chuckled and shook his head. "As long as I'm around to see Cayde's reaction when you try to collect."

"Deal," the Gunslinger said easily.


	4. Part 1: Lend Me Your Hand

Note: The beginning to Azra's story as seen in the main fic is not the first one I wrote. Originally she was supposed to meet the Crew during the Battle of Twilight Gap. I scrapped this for a couple reasons (mainly, it didn't give much time to develop the world and the emotional impact of Twilight Gap falls a bit flat if you aren't already fond of the characters), so I decided to start from a different place.

But I never got to talk about what Andal's Crew (and their two Dead End Cure tagalongs) got up to the night of the 21st in-story. I had the old draft sitting around, so with some tweaks (okay I rewrote 90% of it, sue me), here's Part 1 of a (probably) 3-part minseries: Twilight Gap, v1.0.

* * *

**In Which Azra Makes ****Acquaintances**

* * *

Lend me your hand and we'll conquer them all  
But lend me your heart and I'll just let you fall  
Lend me your eyes, I can change what you see  
But your soul you must keep totally free

Awake My Soul – Mumford and Sons

* * *

Small decisions can sometimes have large effects.

For example, a question: What if a certain group of Hunters had left for a certain mission one day early?

This does not seem a decision ripe for temporal picking, at least without some additional background information. It is not a well-documented fact that Guardians in the wild are often (discreetly) followed by unpaired Ghosts. Guardians go interesting places and offer a measure of safety against enemy parties. They are also great for jumpship rides to exotic locales.

So, let's imagine for a moment that a certain Ghost had stopped over in the City for a rest before heading off to Europe to continue his search for his Guardian. He would check the outgoing flight plans for the next few days to see if he could hitch a ride with anyone. If the Hunters had left a day early, he would not have been able to tag along, silent and unnoticed, in the ship of one Cayde-6. Instead, he would ride with a Warlock named Gallida Tuyet on her journey to a Golden-Age archive in Old Palermo, Sicily.

Because of this, Azra Jax was not raised on July 14th, 2868. With nearly 4,500 kilometers of coast to search, the Ghost that would be named Spark took a few extra years to find his Guardian.

And his Guardian, who was raised alone, stayed that way. She felt no urgency to get to some unknown City thousands of miles away. The Fallen were getting bolder and bolder, so better armor and weaponry were a higher priority than a jumpship.

Eventually, her Ghost convinced her. There was a spaceport in Vienna with a ship that still flew, and Azra Jax set out across the Atlantic Ocean. She was alone, but far from inexperienced. A tumultuous life in the wilds, without safe harbor or the security of company, taught many harsh lessons.

Fortune was not on her side. The date was April 21st, 2871.

Twilight Gap.

* * *

Azra was falling, and the only thing running through her mind was a joke. Just some ancient reference from who-knows-when, jarred into the now when her new jumpship disintegrated around her.

_Hey, I still have payments on that!_

At least her body knew what to do. She spun in the air, managing to orient herself and at least slow her descent. She rolled a bit when she hit the ground, but as far as she could tell she hadn't broken anything. She let herself lay for a second and tallied up her luck.

She wasn't too long of a walk from the City: Lucky. She would have to walk because she no longer had a ride: Unlucky. Spark had transmatted her out just in time. She supposed that was good. The burning, tumbling wreckage of her ship careened on. Azra could feel the vibrations of its crash through the soles of her shoes as she gathered herself up.

The timely transmat was only good because it was Dark here. A resurrection would be tricky. She had wandered some pretty odd places across Europe, through mountains and Fallen nests and giant, twisting shards of alabaster and Light- but none so Dark as this. She'd stayed away from places as Dark as this. Final Death was not something she enjoyed courting.

She took stock of her surroundings. The sun had set not half an hour ago, yet it was already dim as midnight. Nearly everything was in the shadow of the mountains around here. She was in some valley between the peaks, where scrubby underbrush and determined trees had made a home for themselves. There was cover: Lucky.

It took her a moment to realize the sound of engines had never really faded. Either the motors on the Jumpship miraculously survived their crash, or-

Two smaller vehicles shot out of the undergrowth as she turned. Azra already had her sidearm in hand, but these weren't Pikes. They were smaller, lower to the ground, and apparently much more maneuverable. One banked hard to avoid her, close enough to pull her cloak in its wake. The engine noises pitched down rapidly, both vehicles turning at sharp angles back around towards her.

She kept her sidearm out.

There were two Human figures on the not-Pikes. They leaned back in unison and cut their engines. One pulled off its helmet, revealing… not a Human face. In the darkness, she couldn't make colors (besides its eyes glowing like the sky before sunset and its mouth full of coal-orange), but the lines were clearly artificial. It had a horn on its head.

"That crash yours?" asked the other one. He sounded Human, at least. He wore a long, dark piece of fabric over his shoulders. Azra just nodded her head, dumbfounded. He took off his helmet, and Azra was greeted with the first glimpse of a person's face that wasn't hers. Thinner, male, with a poorly-trimmed beard. That's all she could see the darkness. Her Ghost knew better than to shine flashlights in hostile territory.

She didn't know what to do. Put her sidearm away? Run in the opposite direction? Salute? They were the first living humans (or robots) Azra had ever met. It was completely outside of everything she knew.

Her ears caught more whining. Her feet felt the faintest rumble of something approaching. Four more vehicles pulled up, with four more people. Six total. Azra felt very overwhelmed. From being completely alone to six people, in the space of twenty seconds.

The artificial person (was he a person?) wasn't as calm as his companion. "The hell are you trying to do, flying a jumpship 'round here at a time like this?" His voice had a mechanical overtone to it, like a Ghost's.

"My Ghost said the Last City was a _safe_ place," Azra bit back. Her voice was scratchy. It sounded angry. In reality, her hands were trembling from fear a slight bit of shock. She did her best to shake it off and focus on the task at hand. The people before her all seemed urgent.

"Your Ghost said…" the Human one began. Azra recognized the horrified understanding in his voice. "You've never been to the City before?"

Azra just shook her head mutely. Her eyes flicked between the other five. For the most part, they were focused on her, but one wasn't paying attention at all. Her back was to the group, facing outwards. Azra caught her head turning in smooth arcs. She was studying the world around them. Looking for something.

Azra found it first. There was a slight shift in the wind, the tenor of the air, the movement of branches far back in the trees. Her head tilted up, and there it was: A Skiff.

Azra automatically pulled her hood up and stepped backwards, doing her best to blend into the shadows. She crouched to present a smaller target and hoped her ragged cloak and the shrub she had shoved herself under would do their job to break up her outline.

They did. The Skiff trundled by, oblivious to her presence. It moved in the direction her Jumpship had crashed. Azra held her breath until the sound of its engines faded and her heart slowed a few tics.

Only then did she think to take stock of the others. They had all similarly taken to cover, crouched or prone in the underbrush. Their vehicles sat silent and inactive. They got to their feet before she did. Azra was still a bit stunned.

"How long have you been alive?" one of the new people asked. His cloak tapered off in a sharp point, and he was taller than her. His voice was deep and rough.

She stood, dusting off her knees. "Like, a day and a half? Or are you asking for, um, total time?"

The gruff one crossed his arms and tilted his head just a little bit. Azra could tell he was giving her a look behind his helmet. She swallowed and managed to talk around the lump in her throat. "Almost eight months, then. I was first raised in Old Portugal, but, uh…"

"It took us a while to find a ship," Spark said diplomatically.

"I've never met other Guardians before," Azra said. "You guys are Guardians, right?"

"Isn't it obvious?" The robot asked. "We're not exactly run-of-the-mill, here."

"I've never met _anyone_ before," Azra said.

Perhaps she'd said it a bit too softly. The Fallen were all about posturing and strength. She hadn't even considered that Humans (and robots) might be similar. She had no rules, no way to gauge what was appropriate, no way to tell if the shift in the bearded human's shoulders was pity or judgement. What she did have were instincts, and those instincts told her to protect her vital organs. She tilted her chin in, crossed her arms, and hunched her shoulders, making herself a smaller target.

"Well, shit," said one of the others. He was decked head-to-toe in dark gear. There were veins of electric blue through it all, like the heart of fire showing through a lightning-struck tree. "You been on your own?"

"Didn't… see a reason, uh, not to be?" It was the best answer she had.

"Your Ghost never took you to the City," the gruff one said. It sounded like it should be a question, but his inflection was flat.

"Well, I tried to, but then our ship got shot out of the air!" Spark huffed. "I haven't been in this area of the world for a few years. Why is there Fallen artillery so close to the City?"

There was a moment where nobody spoke. Azra did not miss the shortest one of the group make a gesture, then tilt his head like he was speaking.

Spark perked up. The short one's Ghost had pinged him some data. He scanned it for a few seconds.

Azra felt Spark's shock like it was her own. Her stomach dropped. "Oh no," the Ghost murmured.

"The City is _not_ a safe place right now," the first Human said sadly. "Or maybe not ever. The Fallen organized a massive military effort, and just about an hour ago they managed to breach the Wall."

"So much for that hot shower I was promised," Azra muttered. "That's why artillery got so close. They're swarming the place." She went over her loadouts in her mind, trying to make her strength even _somewhat_ up to the task of taking on Fallen war-parties. Her odds weren't good. And with no transportation now but her own two feet, in the dark, in unfamiliar terrain, with no map…

"Why don't you tag along for now," the Human said. Azra nodded gratefully.

The lightning-blue Guardian shook his head. "We can't take her into the fight we're seeking."

"We can't leave her out here alone," the Human replied. "She's Dreg food." He turned his face up to the sky. "We can talk as we move, but we need to clear out. That crash is going to draw a lot more attention."

"Sorry?" Azra offered. It sounded like something she should apologize for.

The Human just shook his head. The others were re-starting their vehicles now. "You got a Sparrow, newbie?" the robot asked.

Azra eyed the sleek not-pikes and shook her head. "If you're talking about your rides, no."

"You're with me, then."

* * *

The feeling of speed was exhilarating. It was better than riding a Pike. The Sparrow accelerated so _smoothly_ and could take turns that would send lesser vehicles fishtailing. She immediately wanted one.

Her glee was heavily tempered by the terror or falling off. Riding double was hard. It was worse because she couldn't see where they were going. Azra couldn't keep her eyes open against the blistering winds their speed produced, and even if she could, she was in back. She locked her arms around the robot's waist and prayed she wasn't squeezing too hard.

Eventually they came to a halt. Azra stumbled back upright on unsteady legs, trying to stretch usefulness back into her stiff fingers. The short one stepped away from the group, Ghost at his palm. The others gathered in a rough circle.

"Alright," the bearded Human said. "This'll hold for now."

Azra had already done a sweep of the woods. Everything was quiet, at least temporarily. She rolled her shoulders and settled her guns in their slings.

"Basically," the Human started like he was about to get in to a deep explanation. Instead he paused for a second, then swore to himself. "I never asked your name, did I? Do you have one?"

"Azra," she said. "Uhm, Jax. And my Ghost is Spark."

A faint smile touched the Human's lips. "Well met, considering the circumstances. I'm Andal Brask. That's Cayde-6, Tevis Larsen, Shiro-4, Imir, and Shaana Duri." She affixed the names to the people best she could in her mind. Cayde-6 was the robot she'd ridden with. Tevis was the pointy-caped one who gave looks. Shiro-4 was short. Imir was still glowing blue. Shaana was the lookout. "We're after the Kell of Kings," Andal explained.

Azra nodded, not sure where he was going. She was familiar with both Kells and the House of Kings, at least in theory.

Andal gestured as he talked. She was fascinated with the way his hands described shapes in the air. "This is going to be a tough fight, if we can even find him. And this area is crawling with Fallen that you're probably not up to fighting, on top of it being so Dark out… we all agree it's best if you stick with us. We can protect you, whatever the future holds. At least a sight better than you'd be off, running by yourself in times like this."

"Well, okay," Azra said. She really had no reason to disagree. Even if she wasn't too excited to go hunting after a Kell. It sounded like more trouble than it was worth.

Andal smiled. "Cool! Put these on." He thrust a pair of greaves into her hands. Azra took a step back in surprise.

Leg armor wasn't the only thing she was given. The others stepped forward, donating their own pieces of gear from their Ghost's storage. Some fit, some didn't, but by the time they were done, Azra was better kitted out than she'd ever thought possible. The City must be an amazing place, to make armor like this.

She slipped on her borrowed helmet (from Tevis, she remembered), and was astounded to find it had _settings_. Spark rifled through them, thought-quick. His voice was whisper-close in her ear as he explained the HUD and the night vision. The world bloomed in surprising color. Shaana Duri was in tan-green camouflage that nearly matched the scrub around her. Andal's cloak was black in true, though Tevis's was actually maroon. Cayde had a blue body to match his blue eyes.

As she acquainted herself with her armor, the others double-checked weapons or spoke in hushed tones. Spark keyed Azra's helmet into the comms network, so she caught the tail-end of Shiro's explanation to Andal.

"There's a Captain _I think_ a half a click northeast who _should_ have a key. Best place to check first, in any case."

Andal hummed. "Best be on our way, then. Azra, you linked in yet?"

Azra started at the sound of her name on someone else's lips. It was a weird feeling. She wasn't sure if she liked it.

"Yeah," she replied. Andal nodded in response and addressed the group.

"We're going on foot from here. No need to startle our prey. Keep your eyes out, obviously, don't want to be prey ourselves. Stick close. Azra, you're with Tevis. Do whatever he says, and don't give him trouble. 'Less you wanna get acquainted with some real solid death. Let's move out."

The others gathered. Azra startled when Tevis appeared next to her, unannounced.

He leaned close, voice even more gruff in the comms link. "Listen, blood-"

Azra's tongue got ahead of her brain. "What did you call me?" She interrupted.

"Blood. Like bleeding. You've bled before, yes?"

Now it was Azra's turn to give him a dull glare. He seemed unfazed by it. Was he upset?

Tevis just crossed his arms and straightened. "You've been by yourself for nearly a year in hostile territory. I'll trust you to look after yourself. But you have no experience of the type of fight we're getting into. So I expect you to keep your hands, and your guns, to yourself. Stick to me. But you leave the fighting to us. You put effort in for self-preservation only, do you jive?"

"Uh… jive?"

He shifted his weight. "This is not the kind of fight newbie Hunters walk away from living. _Do you understand_?"

"Yesssss," Azra drew out, pushing down the sudden frustration that reared its head at the patronization. Was it even patronization? Was he angry, or just being stiff?

"Then do what I tell you to do, no question, no talk-back. You don't know the shape of the world. I'll not have you running into situations where we'll have to risk our lives to pull you out. Stay back, don't draw any attention to yourself, and don't get in my way."

He walked off. Azra just stood there for a moment, trying to process. She'd thought maybe she was getting the hang of talking with people. Why did everything have to be so _confusing_ all of the sudden?

Tevis's bark snapped her back to reality. The forest behind her loomed foreboding in the Darkness. She ran to catch up.


	5. Part 2: The Smallest of Gestures

**In Which Azra Faces Reality**

* * *

And the heart is hard to translate  
It has a language of its own  
It talks in tongues and quiet sighs  
And prayers and proclamations  
In the grand deeds of great men and the smallest of gestures  
And short shallow gasps

All This and Heaven Too – Florence + the Machine

* * *

Something sat wrong with Azra.

Maybe it was just nerves. How could she relax, surrounded by such overwhelming force? These Fallen were tougher than the scavenging parties she'd clashed with in the past. These ones were waging a war.

Maybe it was the friction between her and Tevis. The older Guardian was short, terse, and bossy. Azra didn't know if it was normal. She didn't know anyone meaner, but she didn't know anyone nicer, either. She didn't know anyone. Her instincts said it was out of the norm, but she bit her tongue and kept her head down. She was a Dreg among Captains here.

Their first quarry didn't have the key. They tracked down another. Azra stayed in the back and hid when things got hot.

It was just that she and the other Hunters were too different, Azra decided. She didn't understand them. Why did they pile favor after favor on her? Armor and guns, protection… It was actively hurting them. Azra didn't know how she was expected to pay them back for it. They moved slower to wait for her, they had fewer options, less chances, because they were sheltering her. It was baffling.

They were similar in some ways. They knew stealth, and the cold, stark logic of survival. They held their knives like she held hers. They scanned for threats with the same slow, methodical turns she did. They were, for the most part, practical. It made the differences that much more stark.

Azra figured it out watching the other Guardians fight. She was ensconced in a tree, safe as long as she didn't draw attention to herself. Tevis drew a Bow of glimmering purple. It hissed and screeched. She was familiar with it, and that was a comfort. A small stretch of stable land to stand on. All of these team strategies, the comms system, the Solar Guns two of the Guardians wielded, those were new. But the Bow was not.

What settled wrong under her skin was the things that shouldn't have been new, but were. There were three Guardians in the group who used the Arc. That was the first thing she'd touched, the thing she went back to on instinct, it should have been her greatest connection to this group.

But when the short one (the tracker Shiro) called the Lightning to himself, it wasn't right. He flashed and flickered, sudden, violent death and hair-raising silences. He seemed to flit in and out of realspace. He wielded a Blade of crackling Arc. Not a Staff, like she did. Shaana, too, had a Blade.

Something wasn't right. Maybe it was her. Maybe it was them. Maybe it was that she thought something was wrong- this was only six other Guardians, maybe her Staff did not set her apart. Maybe, like Spark kept telling her, being set apart was not a bad thing among Humans. It certainly was with the Fallen, and that's all she had experience with. (She didn't know why she cared, in any case. She knew being apart, it was _all_ she knew.)

The feeling made it hard to sit still, though. At least they moved a lot. It was a good enough distraction.

Currently, Azra sat in a natural dip in the ground while the rest of the group huddled around a communication node up on the ridge. From what Azra gathered, they were trying to make sure the key they'd found would open the door they wanted.

Well, she thought 'they', but Azra hadn't done much but cool her heels in cover so far. She killed a couple of Dregs who'd found her position once, but she didn't feel like drawing attention to that. These people had killed a Baron for their key. A few Dregs was literally nothing.

She sat in her ditch and kept her ears open. It was still, so Azra heard the other Guardian coming from a ways off. Perhaps he was being kind; Azra knew he could move with much more stealth than the leaf-crunching stride he used now.

She shifted to allow the black-clad Human (Andal Brask, she reminded herself) to hunker down next to her.

"How are you doing?" he asked. He'd taken his helmet off for the moment. The night vision on her visor gave every detail of his tanned face.

Azra didn't take off her helm. Maybe that was rude. Maybe taking it off _now_ would be rude. "I don't know," she said in truth. "I don't know how to deal with any of this. It's… new."

Something crashed through the underbrush a few dozen meters away. Both of them tensed at the noise. Azra pulled out her Scout Rifle in readiness.

It was just a deer, though an odd, tiny one. Azra watched it pass.

Andal let its crashing dissipate before he spoke again. "So. Tevis. What's your read on him?"

His question startled her, so she answered without thinking. "In my limited experience, he's…" Her mouth shut suddenly. Insulting one of his fireteam members might make Andal angry.

"Don't worry," he said. "I asked because I wanted to know your answer. Nothing more."

"He's a bit of an asshole," Azra said. That just made Andal chuckle.

"Fair enough," he murmured back. "Why do I think I put you with him?"

"Why are you asking me all these questions?" Her grip on her rifle tightened, and she scanned the trees around them. Nothing, still.

"I'm curious. You're an interesting person, I'd like to know what you think of me."

She shrugged. "You're obviously too busy to focus on me." She knew leadership when she saw it. Andal had more important things to pay attention to. "I don't know anyone else, so I don't know why you didn't foist me off on one of them."

"Foist?" Andal questioned.

"Offload, dump, fob off. Foist," she repeated.

"You aren't being _fobbed off_ on anyone," he protested. Azra gave him a look through the helmet.

He turned sheepish. "Ah, Tevis is rubbing off on you quickly," Andal said. "Alright. Yes, we would all rather you not be here. That's not 'cause you're annoying or anything. We'd just… this isn't a good time, or place, for you to be on your own. And frankly, this situation is so bad, I'm not sure even we can keep you safe. And when we're watching you, we're not watching our own backs."

"Feel no obligation," Azra said. "I've always been on my own. It'd be nothing new. I'd find somewhere to hole up, or some way out, and even if I didn't, it's not like-"

"We look after each other," Andal said fiercely. "Hunters do. I know you've learned the world is a harsh place. I'm sorry there hasn't been anyone there for you to lean on. But _no_. We're not going to leave you alone out here to die."

Azra didn't know what to say, if she should say anything. She shoved aside the loneliness that reared its head at Andal's words, turned to scan the trees again so she wouldn't have to see that care in his face. She focused on the feeling of the gun in her hands until the unsteadiness left.

Her mouth didn't get the memo that this conversation should end. "Why _did_ you put me with Tevis, then?"

There was warmth in his voice. "So here's this. Shiro-" he pointed up the hill to the orange-cloaked Hunter still crouched next to the Fallen terminal, "Is newer than the rest of us. And a little shy. Plus, we need him focused on tracking. He's the best at it out of all of us, 'specially Fallen stuff. He wouldn't know what to do with you.

"Imir and Shaana," he motioned to the blue-gray Hunter and the one in camo, "I mean, they're good people, competent, but I just don't know them well enough to trust them with your life. Besides, they're not mine to boss around."

The helmet was not good enough to hide behind. Andal apparently saw her confusion. "They're from Dead End Cure," he explained, "A different group than the rest of us. They don't owe me any loyalty, personally."

"You don't fight like it," Azra said. The six Hunters worked as a cohesive unit. It was astounding to watch.

"Yes, they do," Andal said, shaking his head. "You can't see it, but they're not very familiar with us. I was surprised they came along on this hunt, in honesty."

"Okay," Azra said. What else was there to say?

Andal picked the conversation back up smoothly. "Cayde," he nodded at the beige-cloaked Exo, "he's friendly and good with people, but he doesn't exercise much restraint. He likes charging into things. He's good enough to get himself out of messes, but I'm not taking that risk with you."

That just left- "So Tevis." Andal shifted, putting his weight more forward. "He's old, experienced, and yes, he's a bit… prickly," Azra snorted at that one, "but he'll keep you living. He's only an asshole 'cause he's tired of all the social niceties, not 'cause he's a mean-hearted person. He just cares too much, frankly. He pushes at people. He lets up once it's clear you're not a waste of his time."

"That's not fair," Azra said.

"Life isn't fair," Andal replied, with just a hint of bitterness in his voice. "He knows it too well. So don't take it too personal, alright?"

"Sure," Azra said blandly. It was hard to believe, but she didn't need to believe it. She didn't even need to convince Andal she believed it. Eventually he'd walk away and Azra would go back to keeping her head down until it was safe to be on her own.

There was a moment of silence. Andal frowned. "You know, that's his favorite helmet," he said.

She'd been too lost in her own thoughts. "What?" she asked.

"That helmet. The one he gave you. It's his favorite one. Wears it all the time. I think the one he's got on now has a better motion tracker or something." Andal was looking her right in the face. She didn't _think_ he was lying. "But he gave you his favorite. Don't think he doesn't care."

"…Okay," Azra said, meaning it this time. Tevis couldn't just not care, because he'd given her something important. Surely there was a less-valuable helmet lying around.

She didn't know how to process the fact. Maybe she shouldn't process it. It would make things too… complicated.

She thought Andal would get up, but instead his head fell back on the earth behind them. He was still for a moment. His eyebrows were pushed together, though his eyes were closed. He looked so _tired_. The vulnerability of it shook Azra. He took a deep breath in, held it-

"Okay," he murmured, "We can do this." The air whooshed out of him and his eyes opened, face set in a new expression. He stood up and offered Azra a hand. She let him pull her to her feet, but stood in place and watched as he strode away towards the rest of the group.

"He didn't want you to think poorly of him," Spark murmured. "Or Tevis."

"Why does he care?" Azra asked. "I don't understand that bit. I'm worthless."

"You're not-"

"Not, like, in general!" She smothered the part of herself that whispered _yes in general_. "What could someone like him possibly get from someone like me? I'm not rich, or powerful. What could I do for him that he couldn't do for himself?"

"He said he thinks you're interesting. Maybe that's it?"

"I don't think I like being interesting," Azra murmured. She shook it off and went to find the grumpy Nightstalker.

* * *

This was the plan, as Shiro-4 described it: They were hunting down Vasiks, Kell of Kings. The issue was, they didn't know where the Kell of Kings was. The last intel they'd gotten had placed her in their general area, but that had been several hours ago. They needed something more recent and more precise.

The one asset they had at their disposal was the location of a temporary House Kings telecommunication hub. If they could get inside and hack the system, they could use it to get a pinpoint on the Kell. They couldn't just blast their way in without potentially damaging the equipment, so they had to scrounge an access key off of a high-enough-ranking Fallen. They'd done so, and Shiro had checked the Fallen's login credentials. They'd have easy access to the system. All they had to do was get back to the hub.

The main spanner in the works now was the sizeable army between them and where they needed to go. House Kings was still moving troops through towards the City.

The seven Hunters tried to sneak their way in between a gap between two war parties, but their timing was bad. It was hard with no lookouts or satellite data, Andal complained. They had to guess, and they just guessed wrong. Now there was a significant Fallen force bearing down on them.

The ground they'd been trying to pass was a dry, rocky expanse on the leeward side of the mountain. There wasn't much cover or terrain to work with. Azra would have preferred to just stick with Tevis, but he ordered her to find a safer place nearby. Azra found herself a rock crevice to hide in and watch the fighting.

They were astoundingly good, all of them. Azra didn't know what Andal had been talking about. It was like they were psychic. The six of them moved smoothly to cover each other's weaknesses.

Mostly. Tevis seemed reluctant to get too far. The others pulled off more northward to finish off the last of the war party and Tevis did not follow. The spacing got a bit too open. When another Fallen party circled around and attacked from the East, he got cut off. On his own. Azra forced down the urge to jump out and help him, remembering his repeated, blatant, explicit instructions not to. He could protect himself, but he could not protect her if she got into his messes.

Or maybe he couldn't do either. They were too fast for him. Just too many. Azra knew, no matter how good you were, it just didn't help sometimes against numbers. Put down ten without them touching you, but the eleventh one would. And what if there was forty of them? A hundred?

Azra ran from odds this bad, but Tevis stood and fought. She didn't know the moment when he became overwhelmed, but at some point along the line, his determination turned into desperation, hands moving faster and faster as he shot his gun dry, reloaded, dodged Shock Blades and spears and blinked in and out of visibility.

But it was just too much. One of the horde got a lucky hit in, sending him sprawling, gun going one way, his helmet another. Azra caught a glimpse of dark hair matted down with sweat and blood. Tevis staggered to his feet too late.

One Vandal slashed at his back, leaving a tear in his armor and neatly snipping off his cloak. The other shoved a shock blade through his chest.

He looked down at it, surprise on his features. It was almost comical, such a mundane expression made by a face covered in the blood of a broken nose and a half-dozen cuts.

Tevis took one unsteady step backwards before his legs gave out on him. The first Vandal raised its blade to give a killing blow-

No. That was it. Enough.

She'd moved before she'd thought about it- instinct and need overriding any logical instruction she could give herself.

She didn't remember crossing the space, just the feeling of her shoulder slamming into the Vandal's chest, sending it flying. She reached out a hand just in time for the Staff, spinning to slam the other one in a roundhouse. It, too, went airborne.

One lunged to grab her, but the Arc coursing through her body killed it as soon as it touched her. She shook off the ashes and swung at the nearest Fallen.

Sloppy. And wasteful. She wasn't being smart, conserving her energy for where she would need it. Any one of the blows she was dishing out would break a Captain's shields- overkill for the small fish around her. Every hit drove her too close to exhaustion. But she was scared.

_Don't let the fear control you,_ Spark reminded her. _You control it._ He was right, like usual. Azra relaxed and let the current flow.

The Fallen had seemed to move so fast in their swarming against Tevis, but that couldn't be right. They were so sluggish now, reacting so late. Half of them didn't even see her before she dealt them their deaths. They were poor dance partners.

Then again, wasn't everything?

The Arc ran out suddenly. Azra had been pushing herself, trying to buy time and to kill as many as she could. There was no smooth wind-down. One second, her nerves were singing a lightning song; the next, nothing. Like stepping into a hole you were expecting to be level ground. The surprise of it sent her sprawling, as if she'd stepped in a real hole.

She rolled to her knees, short of breath, hand going for her knife. Her muscles were screaming at her. Her instincts shrieked in fear.

There was a comforting sound- she knew the bark of Tevis's Hand Cannon by this point. A steadying hand fell on her shoulder.

She breathed a sigh in relief. She was safe. What an alien feeling, security in a war-torn field.

She looked up towards him. He'd retrieved his helmet; their eyes met behind their visors. "Thank you," Tevis said, not an ounce of sarcasm or judgement in his voice.

There were footsteps. Azra tensed. But it wasn't Fallen, it was the rest of the fireteam. Andal was in front, holding his gun in one hand and his own cracked helmet in the other. His bare face showed stunned curiosity. "What was that?" he said. Azra stood. She felt… uncomfortable, she decided. When had she become comfortable in the first place?

"We don't have time to talk about it," Tevis said. "Later. Maybe."

"We need to get out of here," Shiro said in agreement. "The hub isn't that far. I say we make a break for it."

Andal shook the disbelief off his face and held a hand out for his Ghost. The small machine took his broken headgear and deposited a new one in his hands. "Alright. Let's go."

And, like magic, that conversation ended. They just moved on.

* * *

The communication hub was dim, damp, and altogether too familiar. Azra had been in dozens just like it throughout Europe, scrounging for gear or trying to collect information on Fallen movements. This one was staffed by a meaner crew than she was used to, but the crowd she was running with was meaner, too. The fight was intense, but short. Then Shaana rolled the heavy steel door closed behind them and Shiro started pacing between the terminals with a glint of manic energy in his eyes. Spark went to watch, Tevis went about clearing a stubborn jam from one of his guns, and Azra was left alone.

Rather than stand there in awkward silence, she tailed Andal as he poked around. He didn't seem to mind. Where he looked, Azra looked with him, trying to see what he saw.

This is what she saw: A small space, easily defensible. Only one exit, easily blocked or hidden. Numerous nooks and crannies. There were some valuables here, mostly the transmission equipment, so the locks were well-constructed. There was some sort of… something, some odd tech, near the entrance. She'd need Spark to tell her more, but he was absorbed in whatever Shiro was doing.

Andal called his own Ghost. She scanned the wiring, but she didn't audibly speak. Andal hummed in thoughtfulness. "Imir, can you get the cloaking back up?"

The blue-gray Hunter ambled over and released his own Ghost on the tech. After a few moments, he nodded. "It's as simple as fixing a few relays. I'll get on it."

Once he started, Andal didn't stop. "Cayde, see if the Fallen got a call out. No use using this place if it'll be swarmed by backup."

"Gotcha." The blue Exo nodded and turned to one of the terminals.

"Shaana, any luck on securing some ordinance?"

"Plenty. Mostly small-scale stuff, but we would rig it together into something nasty if we needed to. Certainly enough to bring this place down."

Shiro hooted in triumph, startling all of them. "Got it! Oh, you _beauty_, Pace. I could kiss you!"

Andal smiled and slipped back on his helmet. "That's _my _cue," he said.

They'd found the Kell. Active signal, encrypted heavily, but one that Shiro's Ghost, Pace, could track with some stolen Fallen tech. Andal told her Vaskis had been a significant problem for the City, even before the war they were fighting now. The battle had brought her out of her usual well-defended haunts.

Andal began giving orders.

"Shiro, you're on point. When we get close, I want you to fall back with the rest of us. We'll need the element of surprise. I want Shaana up on a good vantage point before the fighting begins. Then Shiro, Imir, Tevis, you're on general crowd control. Me and Cayde will focus on the big guy. Or big girl, in this case. We'll set a rally point when we're closer, but this is the backup-backup. Hell comes to high water, we gather back here."

She knew it was coming. "Azra…" Andal said. He paused for a moment. Then, "sit tight here. We'll come back for you when we're done."

Azra opened her mouth to protest, but… did she really want to go Kell-hunting? Now?

Andal shook his head sadly, as if reading her thoughts. "Vaskis will kill you. End of discussion on that one. I'd expect this place to stay quiet, but if anything comes for you, send off an emergency ping. Run, hide. Do anything it takes to see you through until sunrise. We'll come back for you when we're done."

The six of them started for the door. One by one, they faltered. Imir's was just a pause in his stride. His Ghost transmitted schematics for the cloaking system to Spark. If the relays went down again, they'd be able to repair them.

Shaana Duri left a bag of grenades by the door and nodded wordlessly. She and Imir slipped out the entrance.

The other four doubled back. Azra thought she knew them well enough to see the edginess in their stances. They were anxious.

"Copy my map," Shiro said impulsively. His Ghost appeared to confer with Spark. "It'll give you a better idea of the terrain. Stay away from major sites."

Cayde tossed a submachine gun her way. "Not much use against Kell armor, but it'll give Vandals and Dregs a very hard time," he said as if it dismissed his act of kindness.

Tevis heaped on more gifts. "It'll get a lot colder before the morning comes," he explained as his Ghost transmatted a blanket, a few water bottles, and some strange rectangles covered in crinkly foil into her arms. "Don't light a fire to keep warm."

"I'm not an idiot," she said without thinking. He just grunted and moved towards the exit.

"That's him agreeing with you," Andal translated as he followed his companions. He paused at the door. "Worse comes to worst…" the look on his face was agonized, and worst of all, Azra didn't know why. "Worse comes to worst, try for the City. If it's still standing, the people there will look after you. If not, just get the hell away. You can't fight this."

And then he left, and sealed the door, everything was quiet.

She sat. Patience was not something she'd had a lot of practice in. Azra didn't do long stakeouts. She ran more than she hid. She organized her supplies and carefully, quietly scouted the structure until she knew every hiding space and nook.

And everything was quiet.

She set up in a corner, out-of-the-way, yet not easy to get trapped in. There was a chill on the air. The blanket was a good one, thick wool fine enough to not be scratchy. The little foil packets were ration bars of some kind. She ate one.

And everything was quiet.

She looked through Shiro's map. It was dazzlingly complex, if limited in scope. Who knew there were so many little tributaries in the mountains? Some of it, the fortifications and sniper nests, were certainly out of date by now, but there was so much information. She planned a few escape routes. It distracted her for perhaps an hour.

And everything was quiet.

Azra got up and paced the station again, measuring it in her footsteps. She dragged all the Fallen bodies off to one side. She wondered about setting up a trap at the entrance, but decided the element of surprise was worth more than whatever small inconvenience she could throw together and set on a trigger.

And everything was quiet.

She paced.

"You're antsy," Spark finally offered.

"I feel like a sitting duck," Azra said. It echoed in the still base. The echo sounded like a lie.

Because it was a lie. She felt safe enough, all things considered. She was in a very defensible position, and the Fallen didn't even know she was here. Spark had deactivated all the computers. They were radio silent. She had every advantage she could hope for.

But still, she was worried. It was an unfamiliar sensation. She felt almost sick with it. She wanted to do something. Here she was, lounging around, while Tevis and Andal…

"Why do I care about them?" she exclaimed suddenly. "I shouldn't. I barely know them. I just- how?"

"They kept you safe," Spark ventured.

"It can't be that," she said. She couldn't be that fickle. She knew she owed a debt, but to Fallen, that would mean more hostility, not less. She should hate them for the things she owed them. "It can't possibly be that simple."

Spark hovered before her in realspace. "It was that simple for them. That's why they were so nice to you. They cared."

It didn't make sense. "They shouldn't have." She was a burden on them. They'd decided to help her before they even knew her name. It wasn't right, that wasn't how things were supposed to work.

"That's not up for you to decide, Azra," Spark reminded her.

It was quiet. Azra didn't like the quiet.

Whatever there should be, she could not deny what was. She wanted to puke. They could be out there, dead or dying. For real. She could never see any of them again. Tevis had been gruff, but he'd looked after her. He'd given her his favorite helmet. Andal looked at her like… well, a real Human being. Like she mattered.

And now she was sitting here, a tight knot of grief in her chest because they could be _gone_. The silence in the hub was deafening. She'd gotten used to their casual banter on the comms. It had happened too quickly; she hadn't even noticed.

She didn't like it. She didn't want this turmoil. The more she thought about it, the more her heart seemed to tear itself out of her chest. What could possibly be worth this?

She was pulled out of her thoughts when, suddenly, it wasn't quiet anymore.


	6. Part 3: Unreserved Honesty

**In Which Azra Faces Reality**

* * *

No, I am not afraid to die  
It's every breath that comes before  
Heartache, I've heard, is part of life  
And I have broken more and more

But I can hope how this will end  
With every line a comedy  
That we could learn to love without demand  
But unreserved honesty

This Will End – The Oh Hellos

* * *

The Night of April 21, 2871

The four Hunters picked their way through the undergrowth. They were not nearly as quiet as they should have been. They were tired. They were in a hurry.

They needed to rest and gather strength, but Andal figured if he ordered a stop, he'd have a mutiny on his hands. Shaana and Imir had split once the Kell was dead. The four of them left had looked at each other, and without saying a word, began high-tailing it back to the communication hub.

Andal had banished his doubts when they were fighting the Kell. True to his predictions, it had been a hard fight, hard fought and hard won. But they _had_ won.

Yet Andal wasn't sure if he would be able to call this day a victory in the future. Sure, they got their target. But what had they sacrificed in order to do so? Wasn't the first responsibility to look after each other? And they'd left the newbie alone in an untenable position.

She'd looked so afraid when they'd left.

He told himself to reserve judgment until they got back to their rendezvous. It didn't stop his worrying. He chose speed over stealth, imagining worse and worse outcomes as they got nearer and nearer.

They collectively paused when they got in visual range. The door to the hub was wide open and the cloaking was down. Andal's stomach dropped. He managed to keep composure and hope as they made their way inside, but it was a struggle.

It was dead chaos in the bunker. Cables cut, crates knocked over, piles of Fallen bodies. Way more than they'd left behind. Too many. The air smelled of machine oil and spilled ether. Here and there, in traces, was the rusty brown of spilt Human blood.

Shiro knelt to inspect. "Void scarring?" he said, "This is fresh." The corpses were still smoking and spitting purple sparks. Someone had been using a Dusk Bow in here.

"Azra!" Andal called out. His voice echoed in the too-still space. "It's us!"

Movement from the hallway. Andal aimed down his sights, expecting a Marauder, but instead seeing a familiar helmet duck back into cover.

"Thank God," Azra's voice echoed back. The tension in the room evaporated. She stuck her head back out, and when nobody made moves to shoot, slipped around the corner.

"I was just about to bail," she said, coming to a halt before them. She looked battered. "You guys do your thing?"

Cayde twirled his gun and slid it back into its holster. "The Kell of Kings is dead," the Exo confirmed.

"Good. I think?" She trailed off into an awkward silence. She really had no idea. It sent Andal back to his early tongue-tied days.

The four of them were too tired. Andal was still processing how she stood, unsure of how close she should be, when the newbie tensed.

He turned to look where she looked. There were Fallen in the passageway behind them. Damn stealthy bastards. They'd caught the Hunters unawares- all of them had been distracted.

Well, almost all of them.

He'd barely gotten his gun out of its sling when there was a whistle-shriek-snap and an orb of Void Light smacked the Captain in the face. A second later, it exploded into a mass of shifting starlight. Tethers shot out to grab the hostiles in the corridor.

It was over in seconds. The four veteran Hunters, already turned and ready, simply unloaded on the party. They died quickly, unable to raise any defenses. The starlight-ball winked out of existence. And then there was just a pile of Void-scarred bodies.

"Didn't know you could do that," Tevis said mildly. The Tether hadn't been his. One of his would have killed the Captain straight off- but it had been _so fast_.

"I hope it's not a bad thing," the newbie replied. Her voice was lacking in sarcasm, worryingly.

"Not a lot of Hunters can make a connection with the Void," Tevis stated.

The younger Hunter shrugged and looked away. When they'd left, she'd seemed sad to see them go. Now she was back to edgy discomfort. Her hands still glimmered purple.

"…We should get going," Andal offered. They'd have hours to fix… this. Whatever this was. Safety was more important right now.

* * *

In the end, they just kind of went with the flow. The five Hunters edged North and East, stringing a path through the mountains and valleys. They clashed with many groups of Fallen- Azra even got to participate in some of those conflicts. The battles were quick and messy, arriving without warning and ending just as suddenly. Occasionally, very occasionally, they'd sit and rest, and Andal would stare at his map and frown.

They shouldn't head back to the City before daybreak, the leader explained. The Fallen didn't like sunlight much- any counterattack would have to wait until morning, when Guardians were at an advantage. In the meantime, the best they could do was gather intel and throw a wrench into any Fallen plans that they came across. With no network, identifying priority targets was hard. (And, though they didn't say it, Azra knew they didn't dare seek more trouble with her to look after.)

The stars inched their paths across the sky, intermittently covered by clouds. The moon set. When the horizon started showing the first hints of dawn, the Hunters started looking for a way though the Fallen lines.

* * *

Tevis would never admit it out loud, but he liked Nightstalkers, in general. Some of them could get on his nerves- mostly them that just stumbled into the Void by chance. Those ones could be just as annoying as your average greenhorn. But for the rest, the ability to draw the Bow meant that they _knew_ something. You could not be a habitual Void-user while being blind. You'd have to have learned some truth, at least.

His pack, for example: Shiro-4 drew his Bow because he'd seen so many deaths. He'd been the victim of a Fallen raid in his previous life; his early years were spent seeking vengeance for what had been his home. He'd seen his revenge through. He'd learned what little good it did. You could feel it, if you knew how to listen, when he pulled the string. You could feel how heavy death could weigh, how the stink could linger on your hands for years, decades. He had a very, very high body count, all of it for nothing.

Andal drew his Bow for tarnished youth, shattered innocence, things irrevocably changed. He'd always been soft-hearted with the youth. Tevis knew he drew his with things dead, gone, and forgotten. Every bond broken, never to be mended. Every death cast into the well of the uncaring universe.

The newbie, though… He'd been surprised when she'd pulled on the Void. She was young, and so very obviously Arc-oriented. What loss could she have experienced, when she'd never known anybody?

Yet she aimed at the Fallen, and the Fallen died. She pulled her Bow with mourning for things unborn and never-to-be. Fires laid but never lit, paths never walked. She was untethered to anyone or anything. She could just walk away from the world and disappear, never leaving a trace.

They'd never see her again after this, Tevis realized. She'd already let go. That's where the unsteadiness in her stance came from. Tevis wasn't one to mess in other people's business, but that just didn't seem fair. She'd barely had a chance, and now it was over? Like that. One dodgy night and she'd given up on humanity.

"I'll talk to her," he murmured to Andal in one of the quiet moments. The Gunslinger had noticed it too- he just_ got_ people sometimes. You could see the gears turning in his head. He'd tried to speak to her a couple times, only to be brushed off.

Andal nodded back, grateful. "I think she'd listen to you, maybe. If you do it right."

Tevis thought about it. He thought about the crackle-snap of her Staff when she'd leapt in to save his hide. He remembered her shuddering, relieved sigh when he'd stepped in to save hers.

"In for a penny, in for a pound, right?" Tevis mused.

* * *

Sunrise

They had a pretty good view of the Wall as the sun rose. The stand of trees they occupied was still in shadow, since they were on the western side of a mountain, but the morning light was cast bright onto the City below them. The Traveler would have been breathtaking if Azra had any breath to spare. She was dead tired.

But she was alive, and so too was the City. The skyscrapers sat glittering in the light, perfect and unbroken. There was no smoke from fires, no streams of people fleeing violence. Everything was quiet. Azra wasn't very impressed. She'd seen bigger and more beautiful things. It was certainly the shiniest place she'd ever looked at, but she had a distaste for gilding. The miniature towers in the distance just looked gaudy when framed by the mountain splendor.

The other four's attention was not on the City, but the ground before it. Azra could make out the forms of spider-tanks in the foliage. She didn't look forward to fighting them. For now, she sat and rested and appreciated the view as much as she could.

Until-

"Comms are up," Andal's Ghost announced suddenly. Everyone perked up.

Azra held a hand out for her own Ghost. He regretfully reported he still had no access to the system. The encryption keys could only be granted in-person. It was no hinderance to the other four Hunters, who immediately buried themselves in their interfaces.

Azra sat back and tracked the few clouds in the sky. Despite the glory of the sun, she didn't think it would get too much warmer. There had been a cold front through sometime in the previous days, and the air still hadn't settled. The higher-level clouds were getting torn apart by the air currents.

Andal interrupted her weather musings with technology musings. "Sending, but not receiving," he muttered. "Still. Looks like the line held. They're already putting together a counterattack."

Azra did not speak. She was thinking about the future- and not just how cold it would be tomorrow night.

Shiro-4 shrugged. "Well, let's get going. Reports don't mention movement in Eastgarden Gap. Good as a place to get through as any."

Azra stood up and stretched. The map Shiro had given her had Eastgarden clearly marked. It would be a few hour's walk yet. Then-

Then this night would be over. Was that a good thing?

* * *

Azra thought six people was a lot. Azra was wrong.

They transmatted into the City. Spark managed to piggyback off of the other's connection- otherwise it would have been an even longer walk to one of the gates. Even before they got in range, Azra was astounded by the number of people she could see on the Wall.

Past the Wall, in the streets, it was absolute bedlam. People ran back and forth, shouts filled the air, dirt was kicked up, items were dropped- she did her best to tune it all out, but it was not in her nature to ignore things. This was as noisy and distracting as a war zone.

There were so many people, and so many kinds of people. Her Ghost pointed out the Titans, who strode though with confidence born of momentum, all bulwark armor and heavy boot-treads. The Warlocks stepped quieter, but with no less determination. She was afraid to brush their robes, like they would singe her. There were more Exos, Humans in every shade of skin and hair imaginable, and Awoken with skin and hair Azra hadn't thought to imagine. Sparrows zipped and transports rumbled, but mostly, people walked.

The other four lead her through the crowds- Andal in front, Tevis in rear, like there was still danger about. Maybe they just thought she'd get lost in the throngs. Azra felt they could carry her away just as well as a river current. They traced a path through several teleporters and a few side streets until they came upon a short, squat building. It was unassuming on the outside, but inside-

It was also unassuming. There was a table and a few chairs set up in the center. The walls were ringed with glowing terminals. People hustled in and out, but at least they spoke at reasonable volumes. Azra still did a sweep of the place before she dared relax. It was weird to see holographic interfaces that actually worked.

There was a tall, dark-skinned man in shiny gold-and-white amor at the main table. Azra thought it rather impractical, how visible he'd be. Maybe that was the point. A giant two-headed axe leaned against the wall behind him- not a subtle type of weapon. He reminded her of the view of the City, all pretty and glowing and so very, very obvious.

He was the only one who really stood out in the room. There were others- Warlocks bustled around, tapping at command terminals, Ghosts hovering over their shoulders. There were plenty of people about in uniform, Ghostless. Azra supposed they were just… normal people.

Andal led her over to a thin-lipped, tired-looking Awoken woman. She wore a purple-and-blue cape to match her purple hair and blue eyes. Andal put a hand on her shoulder and pushed her to the front of their group. "Look what we found!" he announced cheerily.

The woman eyed her up and down. Her hands only briefly stilled from their work on the holograms before her. "You don't look familiar."

"She's never been to the City before," Andal explained. "Picked a hell of a time for a first visit. Found her just after sunset."

"Well then. I'm Alaia Ruse, Hunter Vanguard," the woman said, sticking out a hand.

"…Azra Jax," Azra said after a moment. She reached out and completed the handshake.

Alaia Ruse turned back to Andal. "You found a Kinderguardian. Congratulations." It didn't sound like praise. "But I'm trying to lead combat operations here, in unknown territory. Why is this news?"

"Get this," Cayde said excitedly, "She's an _Arcstrider_."

Alaia Ruse's eyes flicked back over to Azra. The tall, gilded man looked up from his work, a frown on his face. Several of the Warlocks paused in their work to cast intrigued glances her way.

Azra's throat closed up. It felt like the universe was bending, focused in razor-sharp interest that drew everyone's eyes to cut at her. Her heart pounded in her chest. The space was quiet now, and still, because people were _staring_.

"I think I should go," Azra blurted out.

"Well-" Alaia started.

Azra kept going. "_They_ killed the Kell of Kings. I didn't. I don't know anything. I'm gonna go be somewhere else. It's crowded here, you need the space, I'm going to go. Now."

Alaia looked confused. Azra's feet refused to remain steady in their place. She gave ground by centimeters as she repositioned herself, just a little closer to the door, turning her back towards the prying eyes. The room was even more quiet now, because she'd drawn more attention with her outburst, and it was everything she could do to not bolt.

"I'll handle this," Tevis rumbled behind her. He tapped her shoulder, hooked a thumb towards the door, then walked out like it was the end of the discussion.

Azra was quick to follow.

* * *

They found somewhere quiet (relatively speaking). Azra began to strip off the armor she'd been leant. Her old gear was flimsy in comparison, but at least it didn't chafe. Metaphorically or physically.

Tevis took each piece with quiet clemency. He took the extra weapons, too, when Azra held them out. His face was steady neutral as she re-armed and re-armored herself.

The last thing was the helmet- Tevis's helmet. She held it out. He put up a hand.

"Keep it." His voice was kind.

Azra stayed frozen in her pose for a few seconds. Indecisiveness tore at her. She didn't want to offend Tevis, but… she didn't want the helmet. Why not? It was a very nice helmet.

"It's a gift, Azra," Tevis said. She looked back up at him, not knowing how to explain, not knowing if she wanted to explain. There was friction in her chest, repulsion from two opposing angles. The primary vibration in her soul was that of things ending, ceilings come crashing down, bones broken to splinters.

Tevis's eyebrows drew together. Confused? Concerned? "You look at me sometimes like you're afraid I'll break your heart."

There were a hundred things she could have said. _It's not that I don't like you, it's that I do. Sitting alone in the hub was hard. Being alone never used to be hard. I'm young and slow and I will be left behind, I will be alone again, and I don't need reminders of what could be. It's not fair to tie yourself to someone like me._

She didn't say any of them. She spoke the only truth she dared. "This is heavy," Azra admitted, staring at the headgear so she wouldn't have to look him in the eye. How weird was the idea, every time Andal or Cayde had looked at her, the first thing they'd seen was Tevis's helmet.

Gentle hands took it from her. "Then I won't make you carry it," Tevis said evenly. She glanced back up at him in disbelief and confusion. It couldn't be that easy, could it? His face was unreadable. He gestured for her to sit and settled down himself, rolling the helmet between his hands.

"You don't trust me," he stated like it was an obvious fact. But it was wrong.

* * *

_There was a comforting sound- she knew the bark of Tevis's Hand Cannon by this point. A steadying hand fell on her shoulder._

_She breathed a sigh in relief. She was safe. What an alien feeling, security in a war-torn field._

* * *

She opened her mouth to protest, but Tevis shook his head. "Trusting me with your life and trusting me to understand are two different things. Frankly, I think I'd lose some respect for you if you expected me to get you right away."

That confused her. "Respect?" Since when had any of this been about respect?

"You're strong," Tevis said in that matter-of-fact way.

"The dents in my armor say otherwise," she argued.

Tevis rolled his eyes. "Not that way. You haven't lied to me once. You haven't even considered trying. And you don't hide your uncertainty." Was that strength? Azra would think it weakness: no walls, no defenses. Tevis's reasoning did not follow the rules she'd learned. Was Tevis wrong, or her understanding?

He continued. "You take nothing on assumption, and you listen. I respect that. It is very easy to become a better fighter. To become a better person is a different trick entirely. You may have had a rough upbringing, but you came out of it a decent sort."

"I'm not so sure about that," she muttered. These four, she thought, were good people. And she didn't understand them at all.

"That's just confirmation," Tevis said. Azra gave up trying to follow his meaning. It didn't help that she couldn't quite catch her breath, mentally. It was chaotic here, loud, distracting. There were too many people rushing by. It was overwhelming.

She had to focus on one thing at a time. Tevis sat in front of her, eyes boring straight into her soul. He rolled the helmet in between his hands. He looked thoughtful. "Seriously. It's just headgear."

"Andal told me it was your favorite," Azra admitted. Practicality, she could get. But favor seemed more like a burden than a gift.

"That bastard," Tevis said, no venom, just mild fondness behind the words. His fingers flexed on the helmet's latches. He seemed to make a decision. "After all this is sorted and done," he said, "considering we're all still alive, I'd like to stay in touch."

Her face settled automatically into a flat look of disbelief. _Sure_ he would. It made total sense, the battle-hardened veteran with the misfit newbie.

"You don't get to judge me," Tevis said. Azra looked up to find him glaring imperiously. "And I don't lie about shit like this."

Reality hit. Maybe it was the swear. It brought that harsh edge of authenticity back into the conversation. Things grounded themselves. He actually _liked_ her. Somehow it had grown past casual compassion and obligation.

"I don't understand you," Azra groaned. "I've been nothing but a burden. Why?"

Tevis shrugged. "It's not just my decision. Andal's real soft with newbies. He'll worry himself to heartbreak over you. Once Cayde starts caring about things, it's awful hard to get him to stop. Gunslingers, the both of 'em. Shiro ain't so passionate, but you're fluent in Fallen and that's more than enough for him."

"And you?" Azra asked, looking him in the eye for as long as she dared.

Tevis stood and offered her a hand up. She took it.

"Well, blood, I think you can handle yourself. Consider my judgement reserved, even if you don't trust me yet."

He broke eye contact, finally, glancing off down the street. "Andal's pinged- we're going back out into the field." He sounded a bit regretful. "You should probably rest here, at least until air travel is safe again. We'll talk later."

She didn't know what to say to that. Tevis nodded a farewell, pulled his hood up, and then vanished, quite literally, into the crowd.

Azra stood alone, more lost than she'd ever felt.

Then Spark got a ping: there was a general announcement that came with City comms access, along with an invitation to a private message channel. It only took a minute of indecision before she accepted. So very little of her life made sense anymore.

She thought maybe she could learn to be okay with that.


	7. The Empty Chamber

**In Which They Go Back**

* * *

Oh, it's the empty chamber of a loaded gun  
It's the finish line of a race half run  
Oh, it's the breath to a candle whose flame won't burn  
And if it's all of these things  
Why wouldn't you want it  
That much  
At all

Chamber – Amber Run

* * *

August 01, 2951, 18:12 (Tower Time); Asylum, Ishtar Sink, Venus

It was only three days after the death of Crota. Three days after fireteam Dauntless emerged, victorious, from the Hellmouth. Three days of revelry. Finally, some payback for the Great Disaster. Finally, the Guardians had taken the fight to the Hive and beaten them at their own game.

For the Guardians who had actually done the taking and the beating, the revelry grew thin after a while. It was hard to get any work done. The cheering of crowds was grating with the Deathsong still ringing in your ears.

They all had their escapes. Veera, for one, had thrown herself into the Crucible as a way to unwind. Even there, she couldn't escape the congratulations, but at least she could vent her frustrations.

At first she'd wished that she could be like the Hunters, whom she'd barely seen since the celebration had started. When the City became uncomfortable for them, they could just go somewhere else. There were no libraries or Orders to tie them down. Their Vanguard was more than happy to give leniency.

Veera was surprised to see Azra show up on the Crucible roster. Training or not, this series was publicly broadcast, and besides Azra hated fighting Guardians. Everyone knew it. She hated the public attention even more. Yet there she was, touting an out-of-meta SMG and a Scout Rifle.

By luck or divine intervention from Shaxx, they ended up on the same team. They fell in together without a single word. Fighting next to Azra felt natural. The Arcstrider doled out death with beautiful, perfectly-controlled form. She was clearly lacking in practice, but she made up for it with the element of surprise. Nobody knew how to deal with and Arc Staff, even with a year to study. She and Veera eked out a victory, side-by-side. The Crucible commentators would have a field day with it.

Azra shoulder-checked her as they left the arena. "Mind if we talk?" The Arcstrider asked.

* * *

There were many details that Veera didn't notice until they were out of the battle zone- the scuffed armor and wrinkled cloth, a faint sheen of regolith covering everything, the distinctive soot-stains of Wizard bolts and the stitched repairs of sword cuts.

"You've been busy," the Warlock commented.

"We can't all sit around basking in the glow of victory," the Arcstrider drawled. "The Swarm is scattering like a nest of cockroaches. We've been trying to capitalize on the chaos. Lots of high-priority targets running around, lots more tunnels to map and pictures to take."

"Plenty of maps and pictures to analyze," Veera offered. "Things have not been slow at home, either. Are you… doing alright?" The Darkness of the Hellmouth had left them all a little troubled.

Azra took off her helmet. She looked like she'd barely slept, though Veera believed her when she nodded affirmation. "I wanted a favor from you."

"What is it?" Veera asked. Tapio had taught her better than to write blank checks in promises, though Azra never seemed the type to take advantage.

The Arcstrider's lips were pressed thin. "I can't tell you unless you promise to keep it a secret."

"Secrets?" Veera asked.

"I know what I'm doing. I just… don't want to worry people."

Veera crossed her arms. "If you think you will need leverage to keep my mouth shut-"

"After what happened last time, with the Vault and Cayde-"

"I never apologized for that? Sorry." Veera said.

It seemed to bring Azra up short. Some wind went out of her sails. "I just… this is important. Can I trust you to keep a secret? Even if you don't think it should be one?"

"Of course."

Azra looked guilty. "There's no good way to say this… I'm going back to the Vault."

The universe seemed to pause for a heartbeat, but surely that was just Veera's imagination. She was kind of hoping the Hunter would stumble on ahead in a hurried explanation, but she just screwed her lips into a grimace and waited for judgement.

Veera put up her hands. "Why don't you… sit down. And start from the beginning." Something was eating at her, clearly, but to go back? Again? You could still see the haunted look in Azra's eyes when she mentioned the Vex fortress. What could possibly be so bad to make that the better option?

Azra sat on a crumbled bit of Vex stone, wringing her hands. "I been thinking about Eris Morn… It's hard to look at her and not see a bit of myself."

"You both-" Veera started. Her hand came up to her face, finding regular flesh and bone where Eris had chitin. Hers was a more visible alteration to be sure, but no more profound than Azra's time… whatever.

"We're Hunters," Azra's voice was sharp. "We adapt. I don't begrudge her any choices she's made. She lost her whole fireteam in that pit. What I'm worried about… I'm starting to think that I did, too."

"Pahanin escaped," Veera pointed out.

Azra's gaze was distant, like she was seeing something besides the world in front of her. "Pahanin died thinking I was dead. The Vex broke him, drove him crazy. I'm… preoccupied with Praedyth. It's been over a year, and. And I wanted to go check. To be sure."

Veera tilted her head. "Why didn't we check after we defeated Atheon?" It would have been simple, even if they were all complaining about aching legs.

Azra's fingers would not settle. They probed along her armor, catching on seams and dents, but never stilling. "There was no way to Praedyth's cell."

"We could have walked. We would have done it for another Guardian." If Azra had brought it up, it would have been a feat convincing them to _not_ go. Fireteam Dauntless was all the self-sacrificing type.

"Praedyth did not occupy all times in the Vault. He was linear, he'd have to have lived there for all eternity. And the way the Vault collapsed, there was no way to get to anywhen he had been or would be."

"And now you think there would be a way?"

"No," Azra said bleakly, "But I'm out of other ideas. I just wanted… someone who was there, you know? In case I lose it, or… I don't know." She hung her head.

"I'm in," Veera said. "Of course I'm in."

It was always so funny how she looked surprised. She never expected anyone or anything to give her a break.

"You should sleep first," Veera said.

Azra sighed and ran a hand through her hair. "Yeah… yeah. I should."

"Shall I meet you at the Tower tomorrow?"

Her face screwed up in displeasure. "No. That's dumb. I don't need a day's worth of sleep. And it'll be night there in a bit. Just meet me at the campsite, say… nine hours?"

"Which campsite is that?" Veera asked.

"THE campsite. I'll have Spark give you the coordinates."

* * *

August 02, 2951, 09:00 (Local Time); The Crew's Campsite, Lake Võrtsjärv, Old Estonia, Earth

It was well past sunrise by the time Veera got to the campsite (The Campsite, she had to remind herself). It was pleasant enough weather. The scenery was breathtaking. The lake was enormous, surrounded by dense woodland. The Campsite was situated on the sandier northern shore, spread on the dry soil well above the water line. The surface of the lake was rippling in the morning breeze.

Veera expected Azra to be waiting for her, but there was no Arcstrider in sight. Two other Hunters sat next to a smoldering fire. They were both covered in moon dust. There was a tarp between them, covered in parts of guns and cleaning cloths. They had both paused in their work when Veera transmatted down. She took a few uncertain steps forward.

"Uhh, is Azra around?" Veera asked. She recognized the two figures as she got close- the short Exo was Shiro-4; they'd run into each other a few times. The lanky Human had threatened her life once. He must be Tevis Larsen.

It was Shiro who answered. "Oh yeah, she's just off tidying up. Should be back in a few."

Veera stood awkwardly for a moment before the Bladedancer took pity on her and motioned her to sit. There were logs by the fire- the pair of Hunters was leaned against one. Veera sat on the other, back to the lake. Shiro went back to polishing the stock of an Auto Rifle.

"So, where are you two headed?" he drawled, "Azra hasn't mentioned any plans." Tevis didn't say anything at all, cleaning his own gun with what seemed like malicious intent.

"It's a secret," Veera said, eying the Nightstalker with some trepidation.

Shiro's eyebrow-plates went up. "A secret, huh?"

"Yes," Veera said.

Tevis eyed her up and down. His expression shifted. "Well then," he muttered. "Some advice? Stay on Spark's good side. Azra will just about forgive you for murder if her Ghost likes you."

"Okay?" Vera half-replied, half-asked. Where was he going with this?

Tevis peered down the chamber of his Hand Cannon, continuing to dictate. "Don't ever make plans in the City. I think it's just about her least favorite place in the solar system. Mapping missions are much more her ideal date. Low-key, but not too low-key, yeah? Keep things a little interesting."

Wait a minute. "Date?"

"Classic Warlock mistake is trying to gift personal items like cloaks or knives. Those are serious. Leave 'em for really important occasions. I know you types. Stick to guns. Azra's always had a thing for Scout Rifles. Maybe a new sidearm. Something interesting."

"That's not what I'm talki-"

"Take a few steps back, Tevis," the Bladedancer interrupted. "You are-"

"Setting up Azra on a date," Tevis confirmed.

Shiro was skeptical. "Is Veera really her type? Does she even _have_ a type?"

"Use your eyes sometime, metal-brains." The Nightstalker growled.

"Metal-brains? Using a Cayde insult? On me?" Shiro's voice had risen in pitch.

A familiar voice called from the treeline. "What's going on here?" Sure enough, the Arcstrider came out of the woods, adjusting her belt.

"Tevis called me metal-brains!" Shiro exclaimed, throwing up his hands.

"Were you being a metal-brain?" Azra asked.

"Yes," Tevis said with finality.

"Um," Veera said, wondering if interrupting was a good idea.

Azra cracked a smile and put a hand on her hip. "I'll not call foul on insults earned, Shiro. Ready to go?"

That last bit was directed at Veera. The Warlock stood up in surprise.

"Have fun!" the Exo said cheerily. Azra shot him a look, shook her head in confusion, then summoned her Ghost for transmat.

Veera, blushing furiously, followed as quickly as she could.

* * *

August 02, 2951, 03:35 (Tower Time); Waking Ruins, Ishtar Sink, Venus

Spirits started high, but Azra's smile faded as Venus came in sight. It had given way to a sharp scowl by the time they broke atmosphere. The two Guardians pulled a bold move and transmatted directly down into the Waking Ruins. There were only a few Vex there. No organized response answered their intrusion.

They didn't need to raise the Spire, as Azra's Ghost had made a key. A bit of clicking and spinning and the gate opened in the exact same methodical way it had last time. And like last time, there was a hiccup of hesitation in Azra's stride before she stepped over the threshold. And like last time, she shook it off and moved forward.

She did not smile or joke as they made their way inside. The place still reeked with residual Darkness, but it was nothing like the oppressive choking sensation that had followed Veera through their first visit. The Hunter went first, picking a familiar passage through the twisting, blocky tunnels.

Veera distracted herself taking scans of everything she could. There were a lot of details she had missed the first time around. Now, with the timespace stable, they could actually map the Vault and all of its crannies.

Veera explained this to the Hunter when she had to rush to catch up. She thought Azra would be excited about it; she'd always loved maps. They practically had to drag her out of Crota's Throne World.

Azra sent her a look and pinged her high-resolution files, already made. They included not just the areas Fireteam Dauntless had been through before, but miles of twisting side passageways, dead ends, and oddly-shaped chambers.

"How… this isn't the first time you have been back here," Veera accused.

Azra shook her head. "Yes, it is." Her voice was quiet. It did not ring and echo in the space like Veera's did. "I just ran my data with the new parameters, and this fell out. It's accurate, as far as I can remember."

"Why aren't these in the Vanguard archives?" Veera exclaimed. Echoes, again. Azra winced.

"Don't want to encourage people to come here. This place doesn't let you to be reckless."

Azra was the opposite of reckless. Her footsteps were silent. She peeked around corners before she stuck so much as a toe out. She hugged walls and paused to listen every dozen meters or so.

Veera reached out, but the Hunter tensed just before her hand made contact. She thought better of the motion. "Why are you so worried?" The Warlock asked. "We destroyed everything in here."

"What if," the Hunter murmured. She did not have to speak an end to the statement, it was clear the kinds of fear that were haunting her.

"Then we will face it, and we will beat it." Veera put her hand on her companion's shoulder. She did not flinch. Her muscles were rock-hard with tension. "We have seen far worse than a stray Hobgoblin."

"You can't seriously expect me to relax," Azra spat. "Cracked or not, this is the Vault of Glass."

"Talk to me, at least," Veera said. "I don't like you digging these holes for yourself."

They edged, together, around a buttress of stone, and-

* * *

_"What was that?" Wahida-14 asked. "Did you guys hear that?"_

_Azra pulled herself into the present. "Keep it together, Wahida," she ground out. "We need to keep moving." She couldn't lose it now, not when they were so close._

_"But you just-"_

_"_Focus_," Azzra insisted, looking her in the eye. "You can't go chasing rabbits in here. Ignore it."_

* * *

"This is where Sulla almost got stuck," Veera said. Her words were slow in wonder. "I had no idea what you were talking about. You seemed to know something."

* * *

_"It's like," Azra growled, "losing your grip. If you start chasing the future like you can remember it, start feeling for the past like you can relive it, then you don't get to have a present anymore. So focus. It's just echoes. Associations. They don't mean anything, they're not important, so stop. Listening!"_

_Her voice had risen in pitch. Azra realized her hands were white-knuckled fists on the ground. Here, the currents of Light were so faint she could barely taste the tinge of concern. The dim ambient glow was enough to make out Sylas's frown and Tapio's bewildered eyes, though._

* * *

"Please, don't," Azra pleaded. "Don't do it like that."

"What's wrong?" Veera asked.

The Hunter shook her head. "You're giving me a headache. Timespace ain't stable here, exactly, still."

"Let us… move on," Veera suggested. Azra nodded, jerky, and swept ahead in the passage. Several minutes of tense silence followed.

"I am confused," Veera began when an appropriate amount of time had passed. "What… what is that? What was that? I have never seen anything like that before."

Azra sighed. "It's just… echoes. Of what was, what could be. I've been having 'em all my life." She took an abrupt turn, deviating from the path Veera knew. "Didn't know they could happen to someone else, until then. Kinda worrying."

"Your whole life?" Veera asked, "or just since you came back?"

"Whole life, before and after the Vault."

Veera spoke carefully. "You must have your reasons for not making it public knowledge, but that seems… useful."

"Can hardly remember them after they happen, or before they happen." They came to a T-shaped intersection. Azra double-checked both hallways before proceeding down the left one. "Imprints of imprints. Just… static."

She turned back to look at Veera over her shoulder, finally lowering her sidearm. "I've never told _anyone_ about it before." Her voice was quiet, almost wistful. She looked so small. "Not Andal, not Tevis. Nobody. What good could it do?"

"… Thank you," Veera said slowly, trying to not draw it out into a question, trying not to throw doubt on this. She had learned how much vulnerability from the timelost Arcstrider was a gift. "I find it difficult to understand why you have not looked into this more deeply."

"You think maybe the fact that I _don't_ pick at things is exactly why I survived down here?" She slid along the passageway, double-checking corners with a smoothness like well-practiced choreography. "I _adapt_, it's what I do. Drop me on Titan or Mercury and I can make myself fit because I don't pick and hammer at every difference." And that was what she was doing here, falling into old patterns, becoming part of the scenery again.

Veera watched with a frown. At least, as they talked, more confidence bled into the actions. Less and less like a scared rat, more like the self-assured Arcstrider she'd come to know over the past year and a half.

* * *

TYPE: LIVE COMBAT FEED  
PARTIES: Two [2]. One [1] Guardian-type, Class Warlock, designate Veera [v]; One [1] Guardian-type, Class Hunter, designate Azra Jax [aj]  
ASSOCIATIONS: Brask, Andal; Jax, Azra; Larsen, Tevis; Pahanin; Vault of Glass [Venus]; Veera; Vex; Ward, Jaren; Yor, Dredgen  
/AUDIO UNAVAILABLE/  
/TRANSCRIPT FOLLOWS.../

[v:01]: You don't talk about them much.

[aj:01]: They weren't important to me.

[v:02]: They were your fireteam, were they not?

[aj:02]: Some people… they run with the same people. All the time. So fireteam means something, you know? I was just a contractor to them. My family was, is, my pack. I didn't know them three particularly well.

[v:03]: But you did know them.

[v:04]: All this happened before I was alive. What were they like?

[aj:03]: Pahanin was the guy I got along with the best. I think it was just kinda… a Hunter thing. He traveled a lot, too. Wrote some. Got all rich and famous on a book about how to piss of Warlocks.

[aj:04]: But he was… chill. Some Nightstalkers, the got this gravity to them. Like Tevis.

[v:05]: He seems to take things very seriously.

[aj:05]: Yeah. Not that he doesn't know how to have a good time, but everything's so important. Pahanin let things skate.

[aj:06]: He was always good with building stuff. That's what made him a good traveler. No matter where you went, he could take what was there and throw together a gun, or a communicator, or a bomb if you batted your eyelashes right.

[aj:07]: Never met one of his guns. Maybe I will someday. Wonder if he talked about me. I don't think I would have.

[v:06]: Met his guns?

[aj:08]: He did lots of stuff with A.I. Smart weapons.

[v:07]: How did he die?

[aj:09]: He was murdered by Dredgen Yor. Don't know much of the details.

[v:08]: Dredgen Yor? Where have I heard that name before?

[aj:10]: He was a Guardian killer. THE Guardian killer. Forsake the Light and went on a murder spree.

[aj:11]: Killed plenty of civilians too. But he got some good friends of mine. Got a lot of people. Including Pahanin.

[v:09]: I am sorry to hear that.

[aj:12]: That's kinda the horror of all this. I was just… held back from a whole period of history. I should have been there. If not for Pahanin, then for Jaren, or Andal… but I didn't get to interact with the world like that.

[v:10]: For me, it is all just history. I have no claim to stake on those temporal shores. I have had a year.

[aj:13]: A damn good year.

[v:11]: Only a year, all the same. We have to do the most with what we are given.

* * *

TYPE: LIVE COMBAT FEED  
PARTIES: Two [2]. One [1] Guardian-type, Class Hunter, designate Azra Jax [aj]; One [1] Guardian-type, Class Warlock, designate Veera [v]  
ASSOCIATIONS: Aegis; Dauntless [Fireteam]; Jax, Azra; Kabr; Vault of Glass [Venus]; Veera; Vex  
/AUDIO UNAVAILABLE/  
/TRANSCRIPT FOLLOWS.../

[aj:01]: Kabr… is everything. I don't think I can properly describe it. He's just… fucking impossible. He doomed me, and he saved me. And he saved everything.

[aj:02]: He organized this whole endeavor. It was his mission; he had the drive. I never would have come here- well, maybe that's a lie, but all this would not have happened without him.

[aj:03]: And then he went and… did his thing. Cracked the glass. At least he took the fall for his own hubris.

[v:01]: Do you wish you had never come here?

[aj:04]: If I'm being selfish about it, yeah. This was bad. This is almost as bad as my entire life is good, probably worse if I look at it too close. But how can I put myself against literally the entire universe? The Vex have been beaten, at least here and now.

[v:02]: You don't know that we couldn't have solved this without you.

[aj:05]: I don't play with stakes that high. But you've met Kabr. A little bit, at least.

[v:03]: I met a fragment of him. I heard him say perhaps three words.

[aj:06]: That's the usual Kabr experience. Didn't say much, but he made what he did say mean something. Always worth listening to him.

[aj:07]: He was always pretty focused on his Titan things. Y'know, guarding, punching things, defeating the enemies of Humanity. I'm not sure if he had any hobbies.

[v:04]: Do you have any hobbies? Beyond your Hunter things.

[beat]

[aj:08]: I guess not. Maybe we're more alike than I thought. I respected him. Now I'm just in awe. I can never repay him. Even if he were able to be repaid. I owe him nothing, 'cause he doomed me. I owe him everything, 'cause he saved me. He saved the universe.

* * *

August 02, 2951, ?; Vault of Glass, Venus

They reached the cell. It was high atop a cliff on a narrow shelf of outcropped stone. Water ran all around them, trickling down the walls, throwing up mist in the darkness that made the world seem at once both claustrophobic and loomingly infinite. The lighting was dim.

Azra ran a hand over some inert construct on the wall- it looked like there were bullet marks on it. Then she swept into the room. The empty room.

Empty only at first glance. Veera let her Ghost out to scan the space, and he immediately zoned in on a pile of scrap in the corner. Or what Veera first dismissed as a pile of scrap- Ghost lit up the circuits and told her it was a working radio, if a crude one. Made out of an old helmet and scavenged wiring. There was even a card with some audio files on it. Ghost busied himself extracting and decrypting them.

Veera took in the rest of the room. It was tiny, no more than three meters by two. Obviously lived in, from the scratch marks on the walls and the pile of fabric scraps in the corner. The ground was hard, unyielding stone.

Azra was crouched at the other end of the cell. There was a ripple there, a fold in space, some artifact where the edges of reality didn't meet themselves. Azra had her hands in it. Her Ghost orbited the figment. Veera didn't want to distract her, so she just watched in fascination.

The Hunter shifted, pulling back, and then spacetime was whole and there was a rifle in her hands. Azra let out a long sigh.

"I have to stop being surprised when you do things like that," Veera complained. "It is getting old."

Azra stood, flipping the rifle this way and that. Her deft fingers were surprisingly gentle on the casing. She cradled the gun like a newborn baby. "Do you know what this is?" She asked.

Veera held out her hand. Azra passed it over. Veera's Ghost did a scan of the rifle while Veera visually inspected it. It was dulled by tarnish and soot. Rust was just barely beginning to eat at the corners- it would be completely salvageable. The action worked smoothly and the magazine even had a few bullets left in it.

"It's Praedyth's rifle," Azra explained. "He… _left _it here somehow."

"I was going to say it belonged to someone else," Ghost commented. "This is remarkably similar in design to the Exo Stranger's rifle."

Azra's eyebrows came together in confusion. "No, I recognize it. As far as I understood, it was a custom project. No duplicates."

Ghost spun and hit the rifle with another scan. "And I recognize it, too. I'm sure of it."

Veera spoke up. "So we have more impossibilities on our hands. Is that really a surprise?"

"…No," Azra said at last.

Veera's hands traced the shakily-etched word on the gun's stock. "Soon," she murmured, "I wonder what it meant."

"It's hope," Azra said. "For anything to be soon, here?"

"Might it be a message?" Veera asked. "If he left it here, could it be a warning? A prediction?"

"Well, I guess that depends on what you found," Azra replied. "Does the radio work?"

* * *

FILE 001  
/AUDIO UNAVAILABLE/  
/TRANSCRIPT FOLLOWS.../

P: I look though my door, and I see many timelines. I see battles fought. I see paths uncovered. Too often, I see the world drowning in Darkness.

P: I don't know which timelines are mine. I hope they are not the Dark ones, but I do not know. I am only adrift on the ocean of time, with no anchor to hold me fast.

P: I hope nobody has to find this. But if someone does-

P: My name is Praedyth. I came into the Vault with five others.

P: I came into the Vault with three others. Kabr was intense sometimes. Pahanin was always talking to himself, and Azra… I barely knew her. But they don't deserve what happened. No one does.

P: I look through my door, and I see many timelines. Some of them would be the future, some of them would be the past, if I had either of those things.

P: I had a friend back in the Tower, in one past. She used to say, 'Praedyth, there's always room in the mind for hope. It's the crack that lets the Light in.'

P: The Vex have no hope. No imagination. No drive, no fear. All they have is the Pattern. Everything must fit. If it can be made to fit, good! If it can't, it gets cut away.

P: I have known people to get cut away.

P: I have known a Titan to chip the Shears, bend the Needle to a new shape.

P: I have known a Hunter to slip through the Eye, to fall into the weft and weave of the cloth and in doing so, change the Pattern.

P: I have known myself to sit by and watch. I know not what my purpose is in this action. But I trust there is a purpose.

P: I trust one day I will stand in the light of the Sun, one day to walk in the City with the Traveler's blessing without me and within me.

P: You promised I would leave. I know not where this arc leads, but I know it will intersect somewhere. It has to. I look through my door, and I see it.

P: My name is Praedyth. My name was Praedyth, and my name will be Praedyth.

* * *

The audio recording finished with a crackle and a pop. The two Guardians stared at the mess of wires in contemplation.

"It's from a long time ago," Azra explained after a moment. Her eyes were sad. She crouched over the shorted-out tech.

"Really?" Veera asked.

The Hunter tilted her head. "It's in the static. You… can't tell, can you." Her expression was bleak. "We shouldn't have come back. We can't save him."

"Of course not," Veera said. "You already did."

Silence sat between them for a moment, only broken by the steady drip of water over stone.

"Come on," the Warlock said at last. "There is one thing left still to do."

* * *

?, The Waking Ruins, Ishtar Sink, Venus

For a moment, briefly, for just a sliver of a millisecond, the Waking Ruins were lit by blue light.

A Warlock stumbles on the threshold to the Vault of Glass. His knees tremble feebly, but he stands nonetheless.

For a moment, he is left breathless. He does not know where he is. This must be the Waking Ruins, but the night sky isn't the usual oppressive blanket of cloud. There isn't a cloud in sight. Instead, the sky is a deep expanse of stars, carelessly scattered by an omnipotent hand into clumps and whorls. The Milky Way stretches one horizon to the other in absolute glory. The Ruins are bathed in its gentle light.

He wants to fall to his knees and weep, but he doesn't know if he could get up again. The breeze is cool and balmy, a lover's caress through the threadbare and rot-eaten clothing he wears. He has no armor. He had scrapped it all for parts, sketched messages on any smooth surface he could find and chucked them into oblivion, hoping for a backsplash or an echo that could help him triangulate reality.

Reality needs no triangulation now. He stands in it, breathless in awe.

He does his best to move forward- after so long sitting in place, waiting, even the concept of it seems alien. Mind not his aching and neglected body. He makes his way down the stairs, one trembling step at a time.

He almost misses it. The friendly green light catches his eye like a chipped nail catches loose threads. The design of the cache is neutral, a City standard. Someone has tucked it away in a corner of Vex architecture, hidden from all angles but this one.

* * *

FILE 001  
/AUDIO UNAVAILABLE/  
/TRANSCRIPT FOLLOWS.../

AJ: My name is Azra Jax. Please, listen. I have left this cache for Praedyth. We were members of Kabr's fireteam. I fear he won't live long without supplies. If you need something, take it, but please return it. If you find this empty, fill it. We all owe him a debt of existence.

AJ: The structure behind you was called the Vault of Glass. It was a Vex fortress, one they used to manipulate ontology. Time. Existence. It was a threat on a universal level. We went in- Pahanin and I, Kabr and Praedyth, seeking knowledge about the Vex and their plans. Some of us have paid prices greater than death to end them.

AJ: I escaped, and I brought others back, and we killed this place. And I freed Praedyth, but I do not know when he will be. Right now, the year is 2951.

AJ: I will check as often as I can, but Praedyth, I might be gone. Long gone. I hope the City still stands. I hope the universe is kind to you. You deserve it.

/ADDENDUM A/

D: My name is Dove. This cache saved my life. I guess I'll keep an eye on it, on the chance it'll save someone else's. Maybe even who it was supposed to.

/ADDENDUM B/

LF: This is Liu Feng of the Sunbreakers. We remember Praedyth. If he needs our help, he needs but call.

/ADDENDUM C/

O6: Updated the hermetic tech. Food and ammo will keep longer. Long enough, hopefully.

/ADDENDUM D/

MR: Marcus Ren speaking! Never knew you, Praedyth, but Pahanin was a good guy. I owe him one. Guess that means I owe you one, in a way. Drinks on me when you get back to the City. I left a Sparrow to help you get there.

/ADDENDUM E/

SQ: I am Seif Qasim, marked by the Cormorant Seal. Wherever you are, know that you've made the Praxic Order proud.

/ADDENDUM F/

E5: Patrol through here all the time, never knew this was here. Fireteam Dauntless is heroes, back in the City. Azra Jax thinks you deserve some of that credit? Least I can do is leave you my old Shotgun. Pulled my ass out of more messes than I can count. Here's hoping it pulls yours out of some, too.

/ADDENDUM G/

G: I'm just a Ghost. I can't do anything for you. Just know I'm cheering for you, way back here. I'd never find my Guardian if all of time got erased, right?

/ADDENDUM H/

C6: Now this ain't the good stuff, but even in instant form, Ramen ain't nothing to turn your nose up at. Can't say I never did anything for ya, buddy. Just remember this when you get back to the City, eh? You can treat me to the real deal.

C6: Plus, Azra still turns green whenever you mention tree-cabbage. Nobody deserves that kind of torture.

/ADDENDUM I/

L: Never know where hope will shine, Praedyth. Some of us never forgot you. It's been decades since you left, but I'm still here, eh? We might talk again some day. I'll keep on doing my best to not die, you keep on doing yours as well.

L: That's assuming you haven't come out centuries in the past and died on Venus before Guardians ever reached it.

L: Well, here's to hoping.


	8. True North Fades

Another pin pushed in  
To remind us where we've been  
And every mile adds up  
And leaves a mark on us  
And sometimes our compass breaks  
And our steady true north fades  
We'll be just fine

West – Sleeping At Last

* * *

"We gotta rez at least one of them."

_Huh?_

"-n't expect this."

_Oh. Words. Right._

"It's too Dar-"

_Hm. The words come, but not the voices. Who?_

"-rrying three of them isn't-"

_Wait, there are voices, you just forgot how to hear them. There's still disconnect. The voice makes a noise and somewhere words happen, but you feel like you can't understand how the sound makes the meaning._

"Hold up, Cayde."

_Cayde. You know that name. You just… can't remember. Probably good. Right? It doesn't make you feel nervous, at least, like… some other name. You can't dredge up any other names right now._

"-out of their systems-"

_It's too hard to wrestle any sort of coherency out of the snippets. You have no idea what's going on. They continue, something about backup, and armor, and Fallen. The words filter down like debris falling through the water. It takes you what feels like an eternity to figure out you might be in a fight._

_Maybe you should… try? Something? Hm. Hold up._

_If you think the right way, then…_

_Eh. That's not working. _

_The two voices- or are there three? They might be arguing. Or maybe they're tense. Or angry. Something… not pleasant. Does that have anything to do with… this? Whatever this is?_

_You get the feeling this isn't normal, but…_

_Hm._

_Something in the world shifts. The universe tilts on its axis._

_Hello, inner ear. So nice to meet you again._

_You find your tongue glued to the top of your mouth. Thirsty. A dull heaviness behind your eyes. Your face feels like rubber. Your limbs, when you reach for them, are lead-encased jelly. There's a slight… something. Regular, rhythmic._

_Your breathing, maybe? It's kind of annoying._

_Your eyelids feel impossibly heavy, and even when you manage the force of will to open them, they only crack open slivers. Gummed up. You blink them rapidly, trying to clear it. It takes physical will to roll your eyes around to see. _

_The yawning blankness threatens to cover you again. You fight against it ferociously. It surprises you. When did you get enough presence of mind to have motivation?_

_With a great deal of effort, you manage to get your eyes open and your vision at some level of focus. _

"She's waking up."

_Ah, that voice is immediately familiar. It's a good thing. The name to it, though, still eludes you._

"Azra, buddy. Look at me."

_That's a different one. Still good. Something blue and white comes into focus. A person. Ah! A person you know!_

… _Who is that, again?_

"She still is pretty out of it."

_You manage to swallow, but it only manages to bring to your attention that your throat feels like it's coated in sand. _"Nnnygheah," _You say._

"So that's a no on you walking?" _the blue person asks._

_You are so confused. Your Ghost tries to tell you something in your mind, but his nice little thought-packages end up jumbled and blurred like spilled watercolors and sand-drawings washed by the waves._

_Oh! Him! That's your Ghost. The... whatever-number-voice. Your Ghost. That one. Good. His name is Spark because he shocks you sometimes, but you really don't mind, in fact you think it's a good thing, it doesn't really hurt but it makes him interesting and it gives you something to make fun out of that you know neither of you really care about, and it appears your first learned behavior in humor is teasing. Maybe you should learn a different one. But you never really do humor-teasing things with people you don't know well enough to not-hurt. Or know not to hurt, or… what?_

"That's a no," _your Ghost confirms. You're still confused. Who's telling jokes?_

"Nobody's telling jokes, Azra."

_You give up and close your eyes._

"Nonono, stay awake." _That's not Spark, that's… that's not the blue guy, is it? It's the orange guy. Well you suppose he's technically more black and red than orange, but that's just… his color. He's orange. You haul your eyelids up again._

"We should move again." _Sure, orange dudebro. You always know when to move. Let's go. There are more words there, but they run fast through your mind, leaving no more impression than the noise of a buzzing fly. You're so very glad you trust these people, because it's all you can do to just hold on as one of them lifts you into an awkward piggyback carry. You at least are able to adjust your grip so you don't strangle them. The person lets go for a moment for some reason. You're left struggling with numb fingers and it's so hard to breathe for some reason you don't know but you're drowning again-_

_His hands come back under your knees to support you. You breathe easier, but not easy. Your eyes sting._

_You turn (well, the person carrying you turns) and you catch a glimpse of the dudebro. He's got another form balanced over his shoulders. It's draped in black fabric._

_Shit. You don't know why, you don't know how you don't know why, but you do know…_

… _what? It is very hard to keep thinking. Whoever you're clinging to (rather ineffectually) starts forward. There's a scraping sound. Something about the feeling of your breathing is still impossible to ignore. His breathing is labored, like you're really heavy. You know the sound; it's tied in your mind somehow to the blue guy. Or beige guy. One is how he looks, one is how he just kind of is…_

_You drift a little, thinking about colors. Time passes. You don't know how much. It's just a haze. Slowly, slowly, you pull yourself out of it, forcing your way into your own limbs, pushing back the fog inch by inch until your thoughts are just underneath a layer of water instead of buried in mounds of snow. You realize your chest hurts. You realize you're nauseous and have an enormous headache brewing behind the muddled clouds._

_The… however many there are of you stop moving. It feels like it's been days. You feel very dizzy. The world tilts out of focus, and there's nothing for to hold on to, your very mind feels like it's spinning away. The person you're still being carried by turns a bit too fast, and, well-_

_Your stomach rebels. The person helpfully puts you down, but your limbs refuse to take your weight. Not even kneeling. It's all you can do to hold your face off the floor. Your arms are far too weak. They tremble even with this minor task._

_Your gut muscles just kind of do their thing, and you let them. There isn't much there. When it's done, you do your best to flop to the side. The nausea fades for a moment, leaving you dizzy again and in danger of going back over the edge of unconsciousness._

_Fuck, your ribs hurt. All that throwing up didn't help. _

_Doesn't Spark usually help with this? You shove the pain in your chest to the front of his mind. He responds verbally, apologetic._

"We're on low-Light mode. We can't spare it to heal you-"

* * *

_Azra grunted and braced herself against the doorframe. "I don't have a lot of ammo left, man! What's about making some more?"_

_"I'm busy healing all your bullet holes at the moment."_

_"We don't have a lot of time before the rest of the party comes crashing in here."_

_"Internal organs or ammo. You get to choose."_

* * *

"-if we need to rez someone-"

* * *

"_This old drill, then. I might not have enough to fix all of you. What should I do first?"_

_They'd done this in the Vault, many times. The Light was dim there, so they'd had to prioritize…_

"_My ankle, first. Gotta run to survive."_

* * *

"-and you're in no shape to fight in any case. I can't-

* * *

_The Ghost puts what Light he can into healing the shattered bones. Survival here depends on being able to run and fight. The Hunter bows her head and murmurs an apology. There's not much point. She will fall again, and not have enough Light to catch herself. It was inevitable. The Ghost finishes healing her wrist and secrets himself away in the folds of her hood. His eye is the dimmest of stars._

* * *

"-get this out of your system without a revive-"

* * *

_"Our Ghosts can heal our injuries, and if we die they can bring us back, most of the time. A rez cures all ills, even drunkenness, so this is how we get smashed and still have a sober lookout without someone sitting out all night. Now hand me the Jäger."_

* * *

_A bitter taste floods your mouth. The world shimmers, too bright and loud, and you float, untethered, in buzzing numbness. The dull roar of whatever this is builds, nausea rising new in your stomach, the smell of burning in your nose-_

"Oh boy, here we go again. You should back up."

* * *

Azra woke up, again, kind of. More than last time, at least.

Everything was sore, yet numb. It felt like she'd just been hit by a Pike and then submerged in icewater. And had her entire skin replaced with silicone. And then been stomped on by an Ogre a few times for good measure.

She was lying on her back. She blearily opened her eyes, surprised the ceiling lights weren't too bright-

Oh, there weren't any. They were in a tunnel of some sort, dark and dank.

She swallowed the blood in her mouth and nearly choked. Coughing brought fiery pain in her ribcage, so much she nearly went under again. She rolled to the side, everything kind of… flopping, more than turning.

Eventually the world steadied, and she could breathe a bit.

"Well, guess that solves the mystery of what happens when an Arcstrider has a seizure."

"That's one fucking mystery," she tried to say back. It ended up sounding more like "Zaz onefug-kin myzztri." Her mouth tasted horrible. She was so confused.

Someone- Shiro, she decided, helped prop her up against a wall. Mentally, she pleaded her Ghost for some water. He materialized a canteen, but it slipped through her numb fingers. "Fuf," she said in an attempted swear.

"What she's trying to say," Spark translated, "is she is very confused and would like a sitrep. And some water."

Shiro held the canteen steady for her. Wow, even her gums hurt. Her lips and cheeks were itchy-numb. The water only awakened the horrible taste in her mouth. She still gulped it down greedily. The canteen was taken away when some went down the wrong hole and she was left a coughing, sputtering mess.

"You three got kidnapped," Cayde said. Oh good, Cayde was here, too.

"Free?" Azra slurred. Which three?

"Yeah, they gassed the whole campsite, set off an EMP that took me and Shiro out before we could even wake up. By the time our Ghosts rezzed us, they'd made off."

Shiro screwed the top back on the canteen and set it on the ground. "Seems the new Kell of Winter isn't too happy about his predecessor getting offed. Handed you over to the Splicer Priests."

Azra choked at the memory of fire in her veins and electricity at her neck like a malevolent hand crushing her windpipe. Andal had been screaming.

Spark kept explaining. "You just had a seizure. That's number four in the past six hours. Something I could fix, but it's very Dark."

"On the upside, it's kinda pretty," Cayde butted in. "Next time you feel the urge, tell me and we'll toss you on a pack of Dregs. That'd be a Lightshow."

Shiro doted, wiping her face with his cloak, propping her up a bit more soundly against the wall. "Don't know what the hell they gave you, but Andal and Tevis are still unconscious. You're not getting anywhere near sober without a revive, which we barely have enough Light for, or a long wait. We don't have a long wait."

Azra was nothing if not quick on the uptake. They only could muster the juice for one rez. "We vote Andal," Spark said.

"Why?" Shiro asked.

Azra opened her mouth to explain, but only a croak came out. She put her head between her knees and let her Ghost do the talking.

"Better three people running and one crawling than just the three up," Spark reasoned. "Why waste a rez on half a consciousness?"

"Thfink," Azra managed. The other point she wanted to make. Spark translated. "If anyone can weasel our way out of this situation, it's Andal. Unless you have a plan already?"

Shiro and Cayde made eye contact. Shiro shrugged. Cayde drew the Ace of Spades. "Well, Shiro buddy, it seems you've been outvoted. Charin? We good?"

The black-and-white Ghost appeared in realspace. "We should be. Standing by for resurrection."

The shot left Azra's ears ringing in a way that refused to fade.

* * *

?

Andal Brask was on his feet immediately. Several things battled for his attention. He was dressed in something light. No armor. His cloak was fastened messily around his shoulders, though. No weapons. No gear at all. The space was small and dim. Quiet.

His sweep caught no enemy combatants. They were in some cranny, a hallway open only on one side. The opposite end was a closed door of Fallen make. The whole hallway was of Fallen make, in fact.

Cayde stood guard on the open end of the space, Ace in hand. He looked fine. Shiro crouched over a prone Tevis. He looked up to make eye contact with Andal, nodding his unhurt status as well.

But Tevis- his face was too pale, too lax. It was impossible to tell whether he was dead or unconscious. Dried blood from a badly broken nose still crusted his lip. His curls were matted down with sweat. He also was missing his armor, dressed only in a thin shirt and some leggings, torn through in places to show bruises or nasty cuts.

On the other side, Azra. She was sitting up, but she didn't look in much better condition. She slumped against her own knees, unnervingly loose-limbed. Her fingers were swollen. An interesting pattern of burns spiderwebbed up her neck and onto the right side of her face. Her eyes were bloodshot.

But she grinned. There was that at least.

Andal's Ghost began transmatting armor. He strapped it on with purpose and efficiency. "Sitrep," he ordered.

Shiro rose from his crouch and handed Andal his favorite Hand Cannon. "We're two, two and a half klicks deep in a House Winter nest. They know we're here, no doubt the entrances are sealed. You three got kidnapped. Drugged. Just rezzed you. Tevis is still out. Azra's in no shape to walk. As you can tell, we're in a Dark Zone. Very Dark."

Azra made a sound like a failing engine, coughed, and then slurred, "Seeshrs fugn."

Her Ghost sparked into existence over her shoulder. "No, Azra, I'm not translating that."

"S'true," she protested.

"Not," Spark argued back. The Arcstrider sighed and the Ghost drooped. "I know," he said quietly.

Cayde called back over his shoulder. "Oh, and apparently something the Splicer Priests tried did not agree with Azra's brain. So if you see her get all pale and start sparking, I'd give her a berth."

"Fine," Spark huffed. "Azra says that seizures are fun. Happy?"

Andal remembered. He remembered pain, burning-without-burning, the more mundane aches of broken fingers or lacerations; he remembered a kick to his head; he remembered screaming as the fire ate away at him.

He remembered too much. Andal pushed it far back in his mind and locked it away. There would be a time to process. Now was the time to escape.

"Map?" he asked.

"Very incomplete," Shiro replied as he sent the file. "This place is new. This is all we've explored."

"Idiots," he mumbled. "The two of you, breaking into a place like this? How'd you expect to get out?"

Cayde answered that one. "With three more people than we came in with."

Fair. Still pretty reckless, though.

Time for business. Dragging two people made the ducts a no-no. It also made stealth that much harder. Fighting their way through the hordes was going to be… interesting.

"We'll head for that control room," Andal decided. "Mess up all their systems. It'll throw them into disarray. We'll unlock all the doors. Scratch that, lock all of them except the ones we want. Maybe encrypt some key that lets only us access."

"I might be able to do something like that," Spark offered.

Shiro's Ghost spoke on the feed, though absent in realspace. "I've got half a plan as well."

"Two halves of a plan is as good as we're going to get. I'll let you guys figure that out on the way over. Who's been carrying two?"

Cayde gestured with his gun. "Me, most recently. Still got our fun 'lil stretcher."

"Then I'll take Tevis, Shiro get Azra. Cayde's in front. Let's go."

* * *

_Azra woke up, and she concluded to herself that she'd much rather stay unconscious. _

"You're right, it is kind of pretty. But too dangerous. If that happens in the middle of a fight-"

"I'll fix it, then."

"We got enough breathing room for that?"

_She opened her eyes. The familiar shell of her Ghost filled her vision. Deep blue, like the sea._

"I got you. Just a moment."

_The flash of light hurt her eyes_. Azra was immediately distracted by two things.

First, the immediate clarity of thought. Gone was the fog. Her eyes snapped back open on instinct. The ceiling was in perfect detail. It had been Andal and Spark speaking to each other earlier.

The second thing grabbed all of her focus a split second later. _Pain_. Her neck hurt. Her face hurt. Her hands throbbed. Her chest was absolute fire. Every nerve in her body was abruptly and all at once howling at her.

She screamed. It wasn't a choice. The ragged, inhuman noise tore its way out of her throat before she could stifle it. Heartbeats later, everything dimmed again. The pain lost its edge. The world retreated back to a safe distance. The sound faltered and stopped. Azra was left stunned and dazed. But still hurting.

She curled into herself and tried to strangle back a sob but it hurt, so much it wrenched its way out of her and left her gasping for breath, for space to think through all the pain.

Spark sent encouraging thoughts her way. They hit less as words than notions, splashes of determination and optimism that helped distract her from her ribs, just a little bit.

Enough to focus her attention back outwards. There was shouting. Someone roared.

She knew that voice. Wasn't Tevis supposed to be unconscious?

Spark sent her a feeling of the sun rising, setting, and a mirror of her own slow fight for consciousness.

Made sense he'd wake up sometime, too. What crappy timing.

The muziness continued to pile itself on top of her, and she sank into the depths gratefully. Soon, she couldn't feel her face again. All the pain retreated to a safe distance, distracting but not overwhelming, as long as she didn't move.

She rolled and struggled back into a sitting position, cursing her own weakness. Eventually she managed to arrange herself in a semi-stable slouch against the wall. The others had successfully quieted Tevis.

She must have zoned out or something, because to her awareness, Andal literally appeared next to her. "That sounded bad. You alright?"

Azra hummed noncommittally. The universe dipped and swayed as her inner ear tried to make sense of all the crossed signals. Andal seemed to be very far away. Everything did.

"No," Spark answered. "She's got seven broken ribs, a punctured and slowly collapsing lung, three recently re-located fingers, Lichtenberg burns along her entire right abdomen, acute kidney failure, damage to the tendons in her right knee…" The Ghost trailed off. Azra was surprised. She hadn't known about the knee thing. "I feel so helpless," her Ghost admitted.

"I hate it too," Andal said. "But don't you worry, Little Light. We're getting out of here."

"I hate it when you call me that," Spark muttered. Andal chuckled.

"Ready to go?" the Gunslinger asked. "We're done here."

"M'helmet," Azra said. Spark gave it to her. She slid it on, turned up the sound dampening, and turned off her input to the voice channel. Then she nodded at Andal.

Being carried was torture, but at least Azra was free to scream her lungs out.

* * *

They managed to get Tevis rezzed after another thirty minutes or so of fighting. He woke up already furious. Angry Cayde or Andal was one thing. Angry Tevis, _truly_ angry Tevis, sent shudders of fear down Azra's spine. He didn't froth at the mouth or start ranting, but Azra did not like the look in his eye one bit. He looked fit to murder the whole world.

They held a quick conference in a storage closet. Azra only offered suggestions through her Ghost. Her voice was hoarse from shouting. The drugs were wearing off, if slowly. Every heartbeat brought more pain into focus, and she was having a harder and harder time dealing with it.

The main topic of debate: what to actually do. Escape had been the only option before, but now that they were all together and at least semiconscious-

"We could just go, sure. But what's to stop them from just doing this again the next time we piss off a Kell?" Tevis argued.

"We could keep night watch," Shiro offered. Even he didn't seem convinced of the validity of his suggestion.

"For the rest of our lives?" Cayde said. "Pass."

"This is crossing a line," Tevis continued. "We need them to think long and hard before they start messing with us. Give 'em something to chill their breath when they wonder about kidnapping."

"I'll not cry for any of these Fallen," Shiro said. "But is it worth it? We're not exactly flush on ammo here, and there's no way to call for backup."

Azra was not an angry person in general. She was too pragmatic, too quick to accept things and move on. Perhaps that was why she was so bad at Solar things. She just couldn't muster enough energy towards feelings like vengance. Her focus was better spent looking to the future.

But accepting_ this_? This was wrong. She could not just chalk up what had happened (and what was still happening) as a simple fact of the universe.

Tevis was right. They had no real way to counter EMPs and knockout gas while sleeping. If they were to stop this from happening again, they'd have to make it clear that having the Crew in your base was a bad idea, period. Unconscious or not. _Especially_ unconscious.

Besides, Andal had been screaming. She refused to accept that as something that could just _happen_.

They talked, in hushed tones, about their next move. Tevis was eager for revenge. Cayde had sore pride and anger born of helplessness. But Andal and Shiro were still too cool, shaken and unwilling to take risks.

Azra knew something that would motivate them.

She turned off her HUD and stared at her own reflection in her visor. Eye whites splotchy with blood, tear tracks through the grime on her face, a split lip, lighting-patterned scaring creeping up her right cheek and curling around her eyebrow. Her face was taut and pale with pain.

With a good deal of effort, she undid the latches and removed her helmet. It fell clumsily from her hands to hit the floor with a dull thud.

"I say we do it," she rasped with vocal cords shot from yelling. All eyes turned on her, and she saw the difference it made. Andal's expression grew dark. Cayde's jaw worked and his optics dimmed in fury. Shiro looked taken aback. It was easy to forget the pain once your wounds were healed.

Azra spat a wad of mucus and blood on the floor. It still took too much effort to draw in a breath, and her heart thrummed fast and ineffectual in her chest. She didn't care much about that. She knew the others would likewise set aside their own injuries and pains. But Andal had been screaming, and Tevis had been _afraid_, and Azra could not abide that. She saw the reflection of her own anger in their eyes.

This would not happen again. And if the way to prevent it was by bringing burning justice down on the heads of the creatures that had hurt her Pack? All the better.

"Alright," Andal rumbled.

* * *

March 14, 2878, 01:44; Crew's Campsite, 350km SE of Hotan, Old China, Earth

They held each other close that night. Nobody really wanted to go to sleep, even after they moved camp, even though Tevis sat on top of their rock overhang and kept vigilant watch. The camp was a half-finished mess. Things were still scattered about from their haphazard unpacking. The fire circle was just a clear space on the ground. There was no way the Fallen could find their site so fast, in the middle of nowhere as they were. Still, it was hard to relax.

Shiro was flipping through Fallen channels, taking in reactions to the Crew's capture and fiery retribution with a grim look on his face. Azra was sorting through all of the files they'd taken. A lot of the Fallen-made maps needed to be adjusted for Guardian formats and double-checked against existing files. Other snippets of intel she sent to Cayde, who mostly seemed to be shoving them in a folder and ignoring them, staring out at the night's darkness instead. Andal dictated reports and apologies. Azra was settled so close to him she could hear the tired rumble in his chest. It was a comfort.

Eventually, the Fallen moved on to other news. Andal's paperwork dried up. Azra found herself staring blankly through the holographic maps into the dark. There was nothing but silence and stillness for several long minutes.

* * *

TYPE: GUARDIAN CUSTOMS PROJECT  
PARTIES: Five [5]. Five [5] Guardian-types, Class Hunter, designates Cayde-6 [c6], Azra Jax [aj], Shiro-4 [s4], Tevis Larsen [tl], Andal Brask [ab]  
ASSOCIATIONS: Brask, Andal; Cayde-6; Elyksul, Kell of Winter; Fallen; Jax, Azra; Larsen, Tevis; Shiro-4  
CUSTOMS ASSOCIATIONS: Dark Ages; Death, Final; Debt; Injury; Nightstalkers [Hunters]; Pack [Hunters]; Revenge  
/AUDIO UNAVAILABLE/  
/TRANSCRIPT FOLLOWS.../

[c6:01]: That was… bad.

[c6:02]: Shoulda seen it when we first found you. Thought you were already gone, you all were lyin' so still. I don't… if those Splicer priests had done you in-

[aj:01]: They could have.

[s4:01]: Death was inevitable. Blood loss, kidney failure, brain damage. Matter of when, not if, at that point.

[c6:03]: I thought all three of you were gone and I didn't know what to do.

[silence]

[aj:02]: But we weren't gone. Even if it could have happened, it didn't. Because of you.

[tl:01]: When I started waking up, I just heard Azra yell and I thought…

[ab:01]: I knew they'd come for us. Never doubted it.

[tl:02]: Pair of optimists, the two of you.

[aj:03]: If it's that or nihilistic navel-gazing, I'll pick the sunshine and rainbows.

[tl:03]: Don't know what else I should have expect from you, Azra. Creepy optimism.

[aj:04]: What are you talking about?

[tl:04]: The first time you drew your Bow you ended up laughing at the inevitable heat death of the universe.

[aj:05]: … Alright, got me on that one.

[ab:02]: Things could have been bad, but they weren't. We're lucky we've got people willing to break into an unknown, unmapped Fallen nest to save our sorry asses. That's something to celebrate.

[c6:04]: Well, Tevis still owes me a lot of glimmer, so…

[tl:05]: Shut up, Cayde.

[c6:05]: Oh, does Mr. Larsen not like being reminded of his debts?

[tl:06]: You're playing the greedy angle because you can't confront how much you care about us and how weak that could make you, since you'd be broken by losing us like you almost did.

[ab:03]: Harsh.

[s4:02]: It appears Mr. Larsen does not like being reminded of his debts.

[silence]

[c6:06]: Fuck, I'm not just gonna sit here-

[aj:06]: If you move, Cayde, I swear to the Traveler I will stab you.

[c6:07]: What?

[aj:07]: It's going to be cold tonight, and you're the space heater.

[silence]

[aj:08]: See how it feels, being trivialized?

[c6:08]: Damn, Azra, alright. You don't have to threaten to stab me over it.

[aj:09]: Say iiiiiit.

[c6:09]: Fine, I would be very upset if anything bad happened to you guys. Something bad happened, and now I am upset. Happy?

[aj:10]: Only if you get your ass over here. I'm actually cold.

[ab:03]: Mood's a little too dark for the trivial stuff tonight, I think.

[tl:07]: I have had a lot of close calls in my years, but that was a Dark Age-flavored mess. It's one thing brushing death yourself. Another thing entirely to have to sit there and listen and not being able to do anything about it but swear revenge.

[ab:04]: That was certainly a bolder move than I expected to see out of the Fallen. Especially House Winter.

[s4:03]: Their new Kell isn't exactly prudent. He'll continue making rash decisions until it gets him overthrown or killed.

[tl:08]: I think he's already made a rash decision that'll get him killed.

[c6:10]: Hear, hear.

[ab:05]: … I think we should relocate to the City.

[aj:11]: It's 3 pm there.

[s4:04]: Think we're going to get any decent sleep out here tonight?

[c6:11]: I call a vote.

[ab:06]: All in favor?

[beat]

[ab:07]: All opposed?

[beat]

[aj:12]: Dammit.

[s4:05]: The people have spoken, Azra.

[aj:13]: Fine, but we're pre-buying breakfast. I'm not doing any more midnight donut runs. Shopkeep always looks at me like I'm crazy.


	9. A Hopeful Undertone

**Note:** First draft of this was 3,000 words. Every time I come back to it, I end up adding more. No longer!

As you may know, this fic is a companion piece of sorts to my other story, You've Got Time. I've gotten enough things nailed down that I'm confident in starting its replacement, Till It's Over! Go check it out. Or don't. I can't tell you what to do.

* * *

And I will say that we should take a day to break away  
From all the pain our brain has made, the game is not played alone  
And I will say that we should take a moment and hold it  
And keep it frozen and know that life has a hopeful undertone

Migraine – Twenty One Pilots

* * *

Message Log C6AJ2869

**20_05_2952**

**09:22**

C6: It's just for two weeks.

AJ: Two weeks!

C6: The Queen sent home the last Emissary, and we're scrambling for a replacement.

AJ: Why me? I cannot think of a worse person for this. Literally. I am the worst person for this job.

C6: Not true. We could send Asher Mir.

AJ: Okay. Second worst person.

C6: It's just a temporary thing until we can get a more long-term replacement.

AJ: Why me, though?

C6: You owe me a favor.

AJ: Surely someone owes Ikora a favor, or something?

C6: The Queen said she wanted someone…

C6: Interesting.

AJ: You know, the more I hear that word, the more it sounds like an insult.

C6: Listen, all you gotta do is pull some vague time mumbo-jumbo B.S. and then keep out of everyone's hair for two weeks.

AJ: 'Time mumbo-jumbo B.S.'?

C6: That whole thing. "I cannot explain, as a sphere cannot explain to a circle. The Vault exists outside of linear time, outside of your comprehension." Mara Sov will eat that up. She's into incomprehensible stuff.

AJ: I'm not sure if I want to make acquaintances with the Awoken Royalty.

C6: Keep out of their notice and you'll be fine.

AJ: And the Reef's kinda…

C6: What?

AJ: Small.

C6: I'm sure you'll find some way to pass the time-

AJ: Don't.

C6: -As much as time can pass, anyway, from a perspective such as yours. Standing outside the stream, how does one understand the movement of a locked progression?

AJ: You're making it sound like I'm a Warlock.

C6: I'll bring that up to Ikora. Maybe not a Praxic Warlock, but a Thanatonaut, maybe? One of the spooky ones.

AJ: I still don't see why-

C6: Because you owe me. And I'm asking you.

C6: Please? We're kinda desperate here.

AJ: … Fine.

C6: Whew!

AJ: But you better have something pretty good lined up for me when I get back.

C6: No worries. I have some irons in the fire.

C6: All we need is for you to go two weeks without causing a diplomatic incident. Can you do that?

* * *

May 21, 2952, 12:25; The Reef, Inner System Space

Not causing a diplomatic incident was not as easy as it sounded.

Azra let the Awoken military direct her flight path into the Reef. She docked where they told her to dock, walked where they told her to walk. She even removed her helmet and put away (most of) her weapons as they demanded. It chafed, but it was easy. There were concrete rules.

Usually the edginess of new places was softened by the comforting weight of ordinance or the smooth blanket of stealth, or at the very least a few familiar Lights at her back. Even If this wasn't exactly hostile territory, she had no allies, no weapons besides her knife, nowhere to hide from the two Corsairs who escorted her through the Reef. She walked to the Queen's audience chambers unarmed, watched, and alone.

Or at least she walked _up to_ the Queen's audience chambers. There were two more Awoken guarding the doors. They moved to block the entrance as Azra approached.

"Queen Mara Sov is busy. You will have to wait," one of them said. Stiff formality with the faintest veneer of a threat.

Azra did her best not to roll her eyes. Of course the Queen was busy. Why wouldn't she be busy at the time Azra was scheduled to introduce herself? And of course there was no sitting room in the antechamber. Azra's two escorts didn't leave. The two Corsairs at the door did not budge, either, leaving Azra boxed in.

It grated at her nerves. They would have been much better off sending someone who didn't see all the danger in the world. It was raising hairs on the back of her neck. The Corsairs had their shielded eyes and she had her face laid bare. She was surrounded, unarmed save for a knife.

And the Light, she reminded herself. That brought a bit of comfort. Even without weapons, she could easily take down the guards. She could have the Staff in her hand in a millisecond and then-

The escort to her left stiffened. Azra felt herself stiffen in response, and suddenly there was a sharp edge of actual danger in the air. Azra cursed herself for forgetting. The official dossier on the Awoken didn't mention it, but rumor was they could smell intention. Contemplating how easily she could kill everyone around her was not something she should be doing.

"I'm sorry!" Azra said suddenly (too suddenly, too loud). The Corsairs flinched. Azra breathed, slowly raised her hands, and tried again, gentler. "I'm sorry. I should be watching myself. I'm used to… hostile environments. It's a habit. I'm not going to hurt anyone."

Great start to her 'not causing diplomatic incidents' career.

Whether the Awoken believed her or not, the doors to the Queen's audience chambers opened. The two door guards straightened and holstered their weapons. Azra didn't need any encouragement from the guides behind her to leave the small room.

She took in the chamber in a glance. The larger space soothed her feelings of being surrounded- though it was replaced by the slightest hint of vertigo. The walkways were suspended over the void and had no guardrails. At least Azra felt more irony than dread considering the possibility of falling off. (She'd never hear the end of it.)

The Sovs quickly caught her attention and held it. Both Mara and her brother Uldren stood in the place of honor at the center of the chamber. The long walk from the door gave plenty of time to take each other in. Azra managed to remember herself this time and stow away feelings of irritation. She settled on a respectful neutrality. It was the best she was going to muster with the way Uldren was glaring.

She spared a few seconds for the Fallen guards. They set her on edge more than anything else in the room, though Azra knew she'd have even less trouble with them than the Corsairs-

She remembered where she was and dismissed the thoughts. This was not a place of violence.

Though a dangerous one nonetheless. Mara Sov looked at her with too much interest in her eyes. Azra didn't know if her careful-still face was a formality, if she knew she was showing curiosity, or if Azra's Lightsense actually gave her a leg up on the Awoken Queen.

Safe not to assume anything. Azra pushed all of the distractions (the Corsairs still tense behind her, the drop-off to her sides, the Fallen poised ready, Uldren making no attempt to hide his disdain) and dipped her head in respect.

"Queen Mara Sov. My name is Azra Jax. This is Spark." The introduction of her Ghost was not a standard formality, she knew, but too bad. He was just as much a part of the mission as she was. "The Vanguard sent me," she explained.

"I am well aware of your purpose here," Mara said in a bored-sounding voice. "Are you?"

Azra realized again how terrible she was for this position. Not just because she didn't like small, crowded spaces like the Reef or because she didn't have the smoothness of a diplomat. She was an unflinchingly honest person. To her dismay, she could see in Mara Sov's eyes that the Queen did not want blatant truths. Mara played games in which honesty would be forfeiting a match. She'd gotten bored of the straight-laced Titan and his bullheadedness. Now here was a shrewd and wily Hunter.

Shrewd, maybe, wily, no. Azra detested playing with people's feelings. She'd much rather appeal to common ground and be open with herself. But Cayde had sent her here to engage with the royalty, not flip over their game board and call it dumb.

She'd waited too long. Prince Uldren shifted predatorily, grabbing Azra's focus. "Queen Mara asked you a question, _Guardian_," he said in a way that made it sound like an insult. "Why should we bother with you?"

There were literally a million things she could say. Azra tried her best to channel her inner Tevis. She eyed the two Awoken for another long moment, weighing truths. "I suppose I'm older than you," she said.

And she meant it. She could look Uldren in the eye, not knowing anything about his origins, and know she was older. She was older than both of them. Olden than the whole Reef combined. Her age swallowed rational numbers, at least from some perspectives.

"Interesting," the Queen mused.

"That's why I'm here," Azra said, performing a little bow and trying to keep the mocking out of her voice, if not her head. "I'm no diplomat, but at least I'm interesting."

"So the Vanguard saw fit to send you," Uldren hissed. He stepped down from the dais with harmful intentions in his stance. "Not a true Emissary, but a curiosity. A plaything."

Azra was sure her lips twitched at that comment. She never had much pride, but being called a 'thing' stung. She didn't dare open her mouth for fear of what would come out. Probably something scathing and very un-diplomatic.

She closed her eyes and focused on how the world shone in her other senses: Uldren's bootsteps on the floor, the tinge of ozone and Ether on the slightly stale air, the complex and glimmering currents of Light and Dark reflecting off the room's occupants. Uldren was bleeding insecurity everywhere. Mara was oddly detached, barely causing ripples in the tides.

If Azra were here on her own behalf, she'd probably choose the spite over calm. Her first instinct was to fling spite right back at Uldren. But, as she had to keep remembering, she wasn't here for herself. She drew on the icy peace of the Void and opened her eyes. Uldren's face still held contempt, Mara's eyes still drilled into her soul. She found it in herself to not care.

"If a curiosity is all you see, Prince Uldren, then I doubt there's much I can do to change your mind," Azra said evenly. "And whatever our purpose here is, it isn't to have an argument with you."

There was a moment of silence. Azra successfully ignored the Fallen guards and the Prince's indignation and focused instead on the Awoken Queen.

She still lounged, unmoved by the small play before her. Azra was reminded-

* * *

_Azra watched the water with half-lidded eyes. Small fish strived against the current, darting between rocks and submerged branches. Azra could catch and eat them, she knew. She took pleasure in the thought that she didn't need to. She wasn't hungry. She could sit and watch them in benevolence, noting the small dramas as they competed for space and snapped at water bugs._

* * *

-well, of that. Mara Sov's eyebrows lifted a fraction of a centimeter, as telling as the flick of a fish's tail in the steam. If that was the game they were playing- Mara pretending disinterest, Azra toeing the line between truth and omission- then Azra had taken the round.

If all she had to do was be weird, but coy about it, she might be able to manage two weeks.

Either Mara Sov could see the question in Azra's eyes or she had better things to waste her time on. "Very well," Mara Sov said. She waved a hand in dismissal. "We may speak later. I have other things to attend to."

Azra took that as an invitation to leave. Nobody stopped her.

* * *

Azra couldn't tell if the Corsairs that lead her to her quarters were the same ones that had escorted her to the throne room. She thought they were, but with the uniforms and the masks, she couldn't be sure. It's not like they were Guardians, with bright souls that stood out. They were faint breezes and foxfire. Azra hadn't been paying enough attention.

Spark could hold everything she needed and keep it organized, so she hadn't packed a bag. She kind of wished she had- it would give her something other to do than just enter the modest room and sit down on the bed. With a sigh, she let go of the tension and brushed off the irritation from Uldren's words.

And she sent a quick message.

* * *

**21_05_2952**

**13:17**

AJ: What the fuck have you gotten me into, Cayde?

* * *

One of the Corsairs had left when they reached the guest quarters. The other lingered in her open doorway. Azra didn't have the emotional energy to wrestle with her claustrophobia, so she focused on the Void again, and was calm.

She didn't have a helmet to take off. She pushed her hood down instead. She'd been rude. "I'm sorry if I made you feel… unsafe earlier. That was never my intention."

"What was your intention?" The Corsair asked.

She ran a hand through her hair. "Frankly, not dying? I'm more used to danger than I am safety. Even if I know you aren't going to hurt me, I'm… not exactly suited to a life indoors. I get antsy."

"I wondered why the Vanguard sent a Hunter," the Corsair said. "From what I have heard, your kind isn't social."

"I lost a bet," Azra stated, and after a pause added, "I hope that isn't insulting."

This is how it should have been. She was more comfortable here, trapped in a small room and showing her metaphorical belly, than she had been staring down the Sovs with her pride intact. To forge connections, true ones, you had to show weakness.

She couldn't tell if the Corsair was insulted or not. The mask made her look stony-faced.

Azra wanted something else to focus on. There was the pinch of hunger in her stomach- she still forgot to eat sometimes. Though the idea of the rations she'd packed wasn't that appealing.

"How 'bout a deal?" she mused, more to herself then the Awoken warrior still standing on her threshold.

"A deal?" The Corsair echoed.

"Yeah." Azra stood. "You show me where a hungry Guardian could get some food around here, I'll buy you lunch. Deal?"

* * *

May 21, 2952, 13:55, The Reef, Inner System Space

"You know, when I pictured the Reef, I never thought it would have…"

"Restaurants?"

"Bars." Yet here she sat in one, though 'bar' wasn't quite the right word either. It was more of a pub, or a drinking den, or a hole-in-the-wall-with-cocktails. Azra got the feeling a lot of things up here would defy City-definitions.

This was _new_ ground. She barely recognized anything- certainly none of the food. That didn't stop her from attacking her lunch with more enthusiasm than was polite. The noodle-analogues were salty and surprisingly chewy. The broth they floated in tasted like seafood.

"Do you even know what that is?" the Corsair asked. She was neglecting her own lunch to watch the Hunter in fascination and mild disgust. She had taken off her helmet, revealing short pale hair and eyes that glowed more yellow than green.

"It is _food_," Azra replied with seriousness.

"It is fish entrails and kelp."

Azra shrugged. "Hey, anything that isn't tree-cabbage. You ever had Venusian tree-cabbage?"

"No," the Corsair said.

"A word of advice: don't." Her appetite was fading just thinking about it.

(Okay, no it wasn't. She was hungry.)

Azra focused on the rapid delivery of food to her mouth, leaving Spark to carry the conversation. "We never got your name," he offered.

"Leona Bryl," the Corsiar responded.

Spark bobbed in acknowledgement. "She's Azra. Obviously. I'm Spark."

Leona crossed her arms and moved her gaze from Ghost back to Hunter. "You let it speak for you?"

Azra almost choked on her food. After several awkward seconds of coughing, she managed a raspy correction. "_Him_."

"Him?" the Corsair asked.

"Yes, I let _him_ speak for me. He is my best friend. Most Guardian's Ghosts are their best friends. Calling them 'it', unless they introduce themselves as such, isn't going to go over well with most people."

Leona tilted her head. "You have to admit, it's a little weird-"

Azra wasn't done talking. "He's been through _everything_ with me, every death and torture, and there is nobody I love more. I like this casual acquaintance thing we've got going, but continuing to call my Ghost an 'it' will be a deal-breaker."

"Alright, alright," the Corsair relented. "If that's how you feel."

There was a very long, very awkward pause. Azra returned to her seaweed-and-fish-guts. Leona did not seem to want to be the one to break the silence. Azra wasn't much inclined either, but Spark…

"We hardly know anything about the Awoken," the Ghost said. He hadn't been nearly as insulted by Leona's implications as Azra had. "I propose a deal."

"Another deal?" The Corsair asked.

"It's how Hunters do things," Azra explained. "You can't always count on good will. And some of us aren't so… socially adapted. Sometimes you gotta lay out terms."

"We're here for the explicit purpose of being an Emissary to the Awoken Queen," Spark said. "A counterpart to Petra Venj. Here to help calm diplomatic issues, to help the Awoken Royalty understand the City's intentions. But we don't hardly know anything about your people."

"And you don't know much about Guardians, clearly," Azra said. "We both got a lack of knowledge the other can fix. So, a deal."

Spark picked his train of thought back up. "If we promise to do our best to explain things, or at the very least promise to not lie, would you do the same?"

Azra continued. "With the knowledge we don't really know where each other stand on things, so there's no need to get offended about stuff- otherwise conversation's just gonna continue to be awkward."

Leona finally spoke. "What if you ask me something I am not comfortable answering? Or vice-versa?"

"Then you, or I, say so, and move on to the next thing," Azra replied smoothly. "Deal?"

She even held out a hand across the table. Leona sat in contemplation a moment. Azra was seized by a sudden fear of rejection.

But the Corsair leaned forward and accepted the handshake.

"I'll even let you go first," Azra said, "since I'm so nice. Whaddya wanna know about Guardians? Keeping in mind I'm more Hunter than I am Warlock or Titan- so my viewpoint may be skewed a bit."

The Corsair nodded. "I guess my biggest curiosity is, why did the Vanguard send someone who obviously doesn't want to be here?"

Interesting. "There aren't a ton of people qualified to be here who want to be," the Arcstrider explained. "Plenty of Cryptarchs, Faction reps, librarians, what-have-you, would love this. But this position is supposed to act as an Emissary for the _Guardians_, not just the City. So you need someone who takes field work on the regular. Someone who has enough of the big picture to be able to act in an official capacity. Someone who won't try to take advantage of this, who won't go throwing out secrets like candy, someone with enough tact to not immediately insult everyone-"

"Good job on that one," the Corsair muttered.

Azra chuckled. "That's why I'm just the stopgap. Nobody thought I was gonna be some great negotiator, just keep your royalty happy long enough to find a permanent replacement."

She slurped at her noodles and wondered if she should get a drink, too. But no, the look on the Awoken's face as a bit too serious and Azra didn't think it would make a very good first impression. "Speakin' of your royalty… why's Mara Sov your Queen, anyway? She descended from one? That's how it used to work, back before the Golden Age, didn't it?"

"She is not the daughter of another Queen, no," Leona said. "She is such because we wanted her to be."

"All of you?"

"Basically," Leona said. "Uldren is Prince because he is her brother. That's it."

"Hm," was all Azra had to say in reply. It did make her feel a bit better that Queen Mara had the support of her people and wasn't Queen just 'because'.

Leona leaned closer, her own food now ignored. "How does society work? When you can't die?"

"I die all the time," Azra supplied. "It just doesn't stick. But even if you're just talking about final deaths, ones that do stick, it's still a common occurrence."

"Really," Leona mused. "I got the impression- Petra Venj was sent to the City because she killed a few of you. It didn't seem like an everyday thing."

Azra had heard of the ill-fated airstrike. She'd been in the Vault when it had happened. "Sure, nine all at once like that? Tragedy. Didn't need to happen. But anyone who's been around for a few decades has lost someone."

"Have you lost… people?" Leona said, not knowing what word to use.

"Yeah," Azra replied, trying to sound matter-of-fact and not quite succeeding. "It's 'specially bad for Hunters, I think. I don't know. Plenty of Titans bite it, too, but we're… we go into the dangerous places. Alone, often, but sometimes you run into things a whole fireteam couldn't fight. We don't have safe walls to sleep behind."

"Are you not welcome in the City?"

Azra shrugged. "Oh, plenty welcome, but most of us prefer it in the wilds."

"Where you're at risk of dying." Leona was not following the train of logic.

"I'm not here to play it safe," Azra said. "A lot of the places I go, if I didn't go there, nobody would. Some of the things I fight, if I didn't fight them, they'd go unchecked. You hear about the Titans and their big battles, the Warlocks that can rip space apart, but the average Hunter is out there preventing catastrophes right and left. Just quiet-like. Nipping things in buds."

There was amicable silence for a moment. Azra finished her bowl and leaned back with a contented sigh. "Pretty good for seaweed and fish entrails. Guess you guys have to get pretty creative, seeing as there isn't much farmland on the Reef."

"We have hydroponic systems integrated with our aquaculture projects. It produces more than enough food to feed the Reef."

"But no potatoes," Azra mused. "And no dairy."

"Most Awoken are lactose-intolerant," Leona said. "Are you really wasting your question on hydroponics?"

Azra shrugged. "I mean, it's not like there's a limit to these things, right? Now I'm not gonna be disappointed when I can't get cheese."

"Fine," Leona said. "You're a Hunter, right?"

"That should be incredibly obvious. The cloak is a big give-away."

"I'd like to know more about your Vanguard. Cayde-6."

Azra frowned. "He's done plenty of stuff for the Reef, even back in the day. Did you guys forget about him or something?"

Leona shrugged, slow and easy. "He has a… reputation. I'd like to hear your side of it."

"Cayde," Azra said. "Well. He's got a personality. Funny, when he wants to be. Outgoing. Damn good at his job- the Hunter job, kind of less so the Vanguard one, but you could've seen that coming from a mile away. Really outrageous. I guess it rubs people the wrong way sometimes, but it never did me. You stick around long enough for him to get serious, ain't nobody more dependable. He's taking the responsibility of his position a lot better than I thought he would. It's kinda unfair to coop someone that free-spirited up in the City. Guess that'd be true for most any Hunter, though."

Leona was eyeing the Hunter with a bit of… disappointment? Azra didn't know her well enough to guess. "Did you know him before he was the Vanguard?" the Corsair asked.

Azra shot the Corsair a look. "_Extremely_ well. He's pack. My brother. Known him a very long time."

Leona's expression was blank in confusion. "But he is an Exo."

"How does being an Exo have anything to do with it?"

Leona gestured helplessly. "You are a Human. How are you related to a machine?"

"Family _made_, not family born," Azra said. "Though I've known him my whole life anyway. He taught me how to ride a Sparrow, how to shoot a Golden Gun. Was there when I was first Raised."

Leona still seemed skeptical. Azra had to remind herself of the 'no offense' rule. "Do you have other… brothers?" The Corsair asked with trepidation.

"Four," Azra said. "Though one of them's… gone. Shiro-4 and Tevis Larsen are the other two, don't know if you've heard of them. Andal Brask you might have, though he died some years ago."

"I'm… sorry?" Leona said in halting condolence. Azra nodded wordlessly. The mood at their table had soured considerably.

Azra pushed it aside. "Do you have people you're close with?"

Leona tilted her hand in a so-so gesture. "I have never been close with my mother. I have friends, some acquaintances, but nothing too serious. I spend a lot of time with the other Corsairs in my unit. I'm still curious about your… 'brothers'." Azra could hear the air-quotes. "I never pictured Guardians having family. I thought Hunters were loners."

Azra frowned in thought. "Guardians, when we're first born, we don't have a lot. No parents, no homeland, no… purpose. Nothing but our Ghosts and our Light. If we want anything, we have to make it ourselves.

"Maybe we act a bit… childish sometimes, maybe we're hyped up on adrenaline and recklessness, but we're still people. We want to love, and to be loved. Wanna take the people we care about and hold them tight. I think my bond with Cayde is stronger for that we both had to choose it."

"Everyone who lives here has made that choice," Leona said. "Awoken are free to leave and make their life on Earth, but they aren't often welcomed back. It's a hard decision to make. Most would consider it a betrayal."

"I guess I just don't believe anything is owed devotion simply 'cause it exists," Azra said. "Someone wanted to leave the City, I don't see why they shouldn't."

"So, you have people you call family," the Corsair began.

"Keep in mind Pack is a very Hunter thing. Titans and Warlocks do their own stuff. I think it's usually more… individual? Two people call each other brother, but your relation's relations aren't necessarily yours? Meanwhile everyone Cayde is pack with, I am too."

"That sounds… complicated," Leona said.

"Oh, it's very simple," Azra said. "Unless it isn't. Then it's a clusterfuck."

"You have friends and family of a sort," the Awoken said, pulling her train of thought back on track, "but what about romances?"

"Uh… they happen," Azra said. "I think that's pretty standard. At least it's the same as the City people. How's it work here?"

"People decide they are interested in each other, so they spend time together, form romantic bonds, and they may get married," Leona replied in monotone, "or make some other commitment, or they break up, or they sit forever in a will-they-won't-they limbo that drives all of their friends insane."

"That… sounds like what we got," Azra admitted. "Though I think getting married is a bit rare for Guardians. I've heard of it happening, but I've never been to a wedding."

"Why is that?" Leona asked.

Azra just shrugged. She didn't know why. She tapped her chopsticks against the bowl for a moment, thinking. "What do you guys do for fun?" she asked. That would probably be the most useful to her.

"The normal things?" Leona said. "We listen to music, we read and write. Work at our jobs. Spend time with friends and family. Is that very different from what Guardians do?"

"That is something very divided by class. I mean, sure, everyone enjoys a good explosion, but a Warlock's gonna enjoy sitting down with a book a lot more than I would."

"Not a fan of reading?"

Azra grinned. "I don't like sitting still."

"I noticed," Leona said. "You don't stop fidgeting."

Azra very consciously stopped fidgeting. The Corsair sniggered.

"What do you do for fun?" Leona asked, leaning closer. "You specifically."

"Uh, I explore. Practice my staffwork. Sparrow racing is a good pastime. Play games. I don't have a lot of free time unless I make it. Lots and lots of gun maintenance."

"Dating?" The Corsair asked, just a bit _too_ casual.

Azra could feel herself turn beet-red. Her muscles locked and her mind froze as the past few minutes of conversation caught up with her.

Leona looked amused. Maybe she was used to people with thick heads not picking up on flirting.

But she was staring straight at Azra, and the words weren't coming. The restaurant seemed claustrophobic now, stuffy. Azra's stunned embarrassment, unchecked, was quickly turning into some kind of panic.

If the Awoken could smell intention, they could certainly smell fear. Eyes were turning her direction. Conversation was quieting.

Azra stood jerkily, not bothering to straighten her cloak. It was Leona's turn to be surprised. "I'm sorry, I really don't mean to offend you, really, it's just-" Azra began to babble.

The Corsair looked a little hurt and confused. "But you-"

"-Really don't like being looked at. Dear God. Everyone's staring still." Spark was counting out their bill. Did they leave a tip? Did they have to go up to the counter to pay?

Screw it. They left a pile of Glimmer on the table and all but ran from the room.

* * *

An hour later found Azra hiding in one of the hydroponic gardens bemoaning her life choices. The gardens were mostly automated, it seemed, so she was left alone to contemplate her misery. The section she was in was on its night cycle, dark and quiet save for the occasional hiss of a mister or whir of a cleaning bot.

* * *

**13:17**

AJ: What the fuck have you gotten me into, Cayde?

**14:02**

C6: A pretty cushy gig. The Vanguard's covering your expenses, did I mention that?

C6: Hey.

C6: Hey.

C6 Earth to Azra. Come in, Azra.

**14:26**

S: We're eating lunch.

C6: Save your receipts. Zavala is very strict with the budget.

**15:11**

AJ: I reiterate.

AJ: What the fuck have you gotten me into.

C6: What happened?

AJ: A Corsair flirted with me.

C6: I hope you flirted back. It's only polite.

C6: Azra?

AJ: I wasn't expecting it!

C6: You panicked and ran away, didn't you?

S: Yes.

C6: You're a mess, girl.

AJ: I'm a failure at life.

C6: At least the royalty didn't flirt with you, right?

AJ: I don't think so?

S: I don't think Uldren would know flirting if it hit him in the face.

C6: That's the type you have to keep an eye on. They'll sneak up on you.

* * *

Someone had snuck up on Azra. She'd been idly poking at a broccoli floret, focused on the conversation. Cayde's teasing did make her feel a bit better.

Then there were footsteps on the tile floor. Azra spun, an apology on her lips (was she even allowed to be in here?).

It wasn't a gardener. It was Leona Bryl. Azra's words died in her throat.

"Someone said there was a Guardian moping about in the hydroponic habitat," Leona said. "I wanted to apologize. I didn't mean to embarrass you. I thought-"

"It's not that," Azra said. "You just… surprised me, is all."

"Is that how you normally handle being surprised?" Leona asked. "Dropping a bunch of money and booking it?"

"I don't like attention," Azra said. "I hate crowds. I live in a world where everything's trying to kill me, and I guess a part of my brain's always looking at it like that. I'm sorry if I embarrassed _you_."

The Corsair was taken aback. "Me?"

"Well, when the person you're flirting with literally runs away from you…"

Leona laughed. Amusement made the Light sparkle in Azra's senses and the tension eased a bit. "You don't have much experience in this, do you?" the Corsair asked.

"I don't get out much," Azra admitted. "Or, well, I don't get _in_ much. I don't have a lot of free time, like I said."

"So, note to self: don't flirt with the Guardians."

Azra flapped a hand in dismissal. "Flirt plenty. I'm just socially inept."

Leona smiled. "You say that with such _blandness_."

"It's truth. You were going on about relationships and romance for like ten minutes and I never caught on."

"At least you're honest," the Awoken said.

"Yeah," Azra said, thinking back on the throne room. "If there's one thing I am, it's honest."

"So be honest. Are you interested?" Leona's smile was tilted. She had a hand on her hip, the other leaning against the hydroponic tank.

Azra shot the Corsair an incredulous look. "I have no idea what you're propositioning." She couldn't be serious, after Azra's previous showing.

"A deal," the Corsair said. "I buy you dinner, we go on a nice walk, then we make out on my couch."

Okay, Azra's brain said. Dinner, good. Walk, fantastic. Makeouts- "Oh God," Azra said. The aluminum tank-frame creaked under her hands.

"You look like you're about to bolt again," the Corsair pointed out. "Am I being too pushy? Are you already seeing someone?"

"No. Maybe. I'm going to puke." She crouched low, sucking at the cool, humid air.

"Are you not into women?"

"Just stop asking questions and let me have my goddamn panic attack," Azra spit. But the silence that followed was worse. The whir of the cleaning machines wasn't enough to distract her from the roiling nausea in her gut.

_Deep breaths_, Spark coached. _Relax_. Azra started with her physical body- letting her legs relax, breath slow, arms droop, fingers unlock from the depressions they'd left in the metal frame. She stepped back from the fear and the confusion and realized how useless they were.

It had only been a handful of seconds. When she raised her head again and opened her eyes, Leona was still there.

"You are incredibly patient," Azra remarked without thinking.

"I usually have to wait for answers," Leona said. "I don't mind. That was a really fast panic attack."

"If you're slow, you're dead," Azra said. "And Ghosts are really good for this kind of thing."

"So, answers."

"Answers. Yes," Azra said, straightening, pushing off the fear as best she could.

"Let's start from the top," Spark suggested.

"Alright." Azra took a deep breath in- held it a moment- then let it out. "Dinner and a walk sounds lovely. I am less enthusiastic about the makeouts. Not because I'm not… interested. In you. Or women. I'm just…"

"Not the makeout kind of person," Leona said. "I get that."

"Right." Azra nodded. "You are not being too pushy. I'm just socially inept. Again. I'm not… well, it is…" The words just refused to come out right.

"File relationship status under 'it's complicated'," Spark said. "But I doubt she would be upset if we saw someone else."

"She?" Leona asked.

"I would rather go fight a Kell than tackle _that_ tonight," Azra stated.

"Have you fought Kells?"

"I've personally helped kill four of them," Azra said. "And a handful of Prime Servitors."

"Tell me about it while we walk," Leona offered.

Azra hesitated a moment. Then she threw caution to the wind and fell in beside the Corsair. The two of them made a circuitous path out of the hydroponics gardens.

"You realize," Azra said haltingly, "I'll be here for two weeks and then I'm probably not coming back. For a long time, at least."

Leona seemed unbothered. "Two weeks of good conversation and the tabled possibility of makeouts still sounds like a deal."

* * *

TYPE: DIPLOMATIC LOGS  
PARTIES: Two [2]. One [1] Awoken-type, Occupation Corsair, designate Leona Bryl [lb]; One [1] Guardian-type, Class Hunter, designate Azra Jax [aj]  
ASSOCIATIONS: Araskis [Kell]; Awoken; Cybele; Elyksul [Kell]; Fallen; Jax, Azra; Phyksis [Kell]; The Reef Wars; Rilliks [Kell]; Vault of Glass [Venus]; Vex;  
/AUDIO UNAVAILABLE/  
/TRANSCRIPT FOLLOWS.../

[lb:01]: Which Kells?

[aj:01]: Oh.

[aj:02]: Rilliks, of Kings, Elyksul, of Winter, Araskis, of Devils, and Phyksis of Devils. With help, all of them.

[lb:02]: Do you only fight Fallen?

[aj:03]: Far from it. I'm actually more of a Vexpert.

[lb:03]: Vex-expert?

[aj:04]: Pretty renowned for it if I'm being honest. It seems I get called in just about any time someone finds something weird.

[lb:04]: Why the Vex specifically?

[aj:05]: I've got…

[aj:06]: Experience.

[lb:05]: That sounds like a delicate subject.

[aj:07]: Just really, really, really complicated. And confusing. Because it's the Vex. Let's just say I've earned my reputation and then some.

[aj:08]: Don't see much Vex out here, do you? Mostly Fallen.

[lb:06]: We have some Vex in the Prison of Elders. The Fallen don't bother the Reef much now that the war is over.

[aj:09]: Gives me the heebie jeebies, seeing 'em walk around with the peaceful folk.

[lb:07]: That's close-minded of you.

[aj:10]: They committed genocide against my people.

[aj:11]: I've seen the bodies, the piles of human remains. Settlements burned. I've seen them-

[aj:12]: Maybe that's not the best thing to talk about. Sorry.

[lb:08]: Guardians have killed plenty of them too. I'm sure they think of you as monsters, as well.

[aj:13]: At least I don't eat babies.

[lb:09]: That's-

[aj:14]: Not an exaggeration. Let's move on.

[lb:10]: Well, these Fallen are peaceful.

[aj:15]: For now.

[lb:11]: How can they change if you don't let them?

[aj:16]: Listen, If you want to take them in, I'm not stopping you. You want equivalency, they don't try to kill me, I won't try to kill them. Just don't expect me to be all friendly with them.

[aj:17]: Trusting the Fallen is courting death in my experience. And I have a lot of experience.

* * *

TYPE: DIPLOMATIC LOGS  
PARTIES: Two [2]. One [1] Guardian-type, Class Hunter, designate Azra Jax [aj]; One [1] Awoken-type, Occupation Corsair, designate Leona Bryl [lb]  
ASSOCIATIONS: Awoken; Ghost; Jax, Azra; Traveler; Vanguard  
/AUDIO UNAVAILABLE/  
/TRANSCRIPT FOLLOWS.../

[lb:01]: Your Ghost still makes me uncomfortable.

[aj:01]: He can hear everything you're saying, even if he's not in realspace.

[lb:02]: I'd rather pretend he's not here.

[aj:02]: That's a little rude.

[aj:03]: But go on.

[lb:03]: For all I know, you're just a puppet whose strings he pulls.

[aj:04]: You can't prove anyone is sentient.

[lb:04]: Still, doesn't it make you uncomfortable?

[aj:05]: What? The fact that I've been reconstructed from dust by a giant white ball in the sky? A soldier in a war I couldn't possibly understand when I started fighting it? Something Raised, not born, and Raised for a purpose beyond both my comprehension and that of the being that Raised me?

[aj:06]: If there's a purpose at all?

[lb:05]: Wow. Not what I was expecting.

[aj:07]: What were you expecting?

[lb:06]: A lot more shrugs and… bravado.

[aj:08]: You think we don't think about these things? You think we don't worry?

[lb:07]: Frankly, no. I have never known a Guardian to worry.

[aj:09]: Well, it doesn't take that long before existential navel-gazing gets old. Just because someone puts up a front…

[lb:08]: It doesn't mean you don't question things.

[aj:10]: Questioning things is all we have sometimes. Existential crises are kinda par for the course.

[lb:09]: You all seem so carefree.

[aj:11]: Well, you can think yourself to death. I'm pretty sure some Warlocks have managed it. But for the rest of us, it's just not useful.

[lb:10]: Useful? To what?

[aj:12]: To our jobs, our goals. Pondering the nature of existence doesn't change the reality of it.

[lb:11]: How do you know you are following the right goals?

[aj:13]: How does anyone?

[lb:12]: Fair point.

[aj:14]: In my early years, I was… lost. Very lost. I had friends and mentors. I had the City to support me, a Vanguard to direct me, my Ghost… but I was still lost.

[aj:15]: So I sat down one day and I decided I had to figure myself out.

[aj:16]: At the root of things, you just have to make assumptions. You ask 'why' enough and you'll get down to questions you can't answer. You just have to say 'because'.

[aj:17]: You have to decide what you value. You lay your foundation. Only then will anything you build stand up to the test of time.

[lb:13]: Okay, so you guys really think about this stuff.

[aj:18]: I'm sure some of us don't. But the things you see… the things I've seen, you can't walk away without some questions.

* * *

TYPE: DIPLOMATIC LOGS  
PARTIES: Two [2]. One [1] Awoken-type, Occupation Corsair, designate Leona Bryl [lb]; One [1] Guardian-type, Class Hunter, designate Azra Jax [aj]  
ASSOCIATIONS: Awoken; Glimmer; Jax, Azra; Venus  
/AUDIO UNAVAILABLE/  
/TRANSCRIPT FOLLOWS.../

[lb:01]: Is there anything you won't eat?

[aj:01]: I'm not a fan of sentient creatures. Beyond that, no.

[aj:02]: In my line of work, the picky starve.

[lb:02]: What's the weirdest thing you've ever eaten?

[aj:03]: Glimmer. Do not recommend.

[lb:03]: Glimmer?

[aj:04]: Pretty sure it turned to charcoal in my stomach.

[aj:05]: Better than the tree-cabbage, though. If I ever have to cook that again it'll be too soon.

* * *

TYPE: DIPLOMATIC LOGS  
PARTIES: Two [2]. One [1] Awoken-type, Occupation Corsair, designate Leona Bryl [lb]; One [1] Guardian-type, Class Hunter, designate Azra Jax [aj]  
ASSOCIATIONS: Awoken; Jax, Azra; Kilauea [Earth]; Manhattan Nuclear Zone [Earth]; Sol;  
/AUDIO UNAVAILABLE/  
/TRANSCRIPT FOLLOWS.../

[lb:01]: Poisoned?

[aj:01]: Yup.

[lb:02]: Electrocuted?

[aj:02]: Yes.

[lb:03]: Drowned?

[aj:03]: Very yes.

[lb:04]: Burned?

[aj:04]: Yes. Painful way to go.

[lb:05]: Asphyxiated?

[aj:05]: Yup.

[lb:06]: Irradiated?

[aj:06]: Hm. Tricky one.

[aj:07]: I've received lethal doses but always ended up taking another way out.

[aj:08]: I've head of Guardians getting trapped in unpleasant loops in Manhattan. Interference is so bad radioing for help doesn't always go through.

[aj:09]: You go too deep, it'll take a lot of rezzes to crawl back out.

[lb:07]: That doesn't sound fun.

[aj:10]: Nope!

[lb:08]: You're cheerful.

[aj:11]: It's laugh or cry, my friend. I'm picking laugh.

[lb:09]: Starved?

[aj:12]: Yup.

[lb:10]: Frozen?

[aj:13]: Yes.

[lb:11]: Any way you _haven't_ died?

[aj:14]: Besides the irradiation?

[s:01]: Actually, technically…

[aj:15]: Hm?

[s:02]: A few times you've died from excessive heat caused by infrared. Too close to the sun.

[aj:16]: Oh. So that's a yes on the radiation thing.

[aj:17]: I've been around the gauntlet a few times. I'd say the list is pretty comprehensive.

[s:03]: Remember that one time-

[aj:18]: Yes.

[aj:19]: Nobody else needs to, though.

[s:04]: But it's a great story!

[aj:20]: Nope.

[s:05]: So, this one time we were at Kilauea-

[s:06]: Mmph!

[aj:21]: Shoosh, Ghostie. No talk.

[lb:12]: Now I'm curious.

[aj:22]: Nope.

[lb:13]: Please?

[aj:23]: Dear Traveler you're batting your eyelashes at me.

[lb:14]: Did it work?

[aj:24]: … Maybe.

[s:07]: She fell into an active volcano.

[lb:15]: No way.

[aj:25]: It was windy!

[s:08]: You tripped. It was hilarious. I have it on video.

[lb:16]: Can I see?

[aj:26]: Why do I even bother?

* * *

TYPE: DIPLOMATIC LOGS  
PARTIES: Two [2]. One [1] Awoken-type, Occupation Corsair, designate Leona Bryl [lb]; One [1] Guardian-type, Class Hunter, designate Azra Jax [aj]  
ASSOCIATIONS: Awoken; Cayde-6; Jax, Azra; The Reef; Sov, Mara; Sov, Uldren  
/AUDIO UNAVAILABLE/  
/TRANSCRIPT FOLLOWS.../

[aj:01]: I hope it's not rude to say I'm not sad to go.

[lb:01]: Maybe a little rude.

[aj:02]: I don't think I can take any more Uldren making snide remarks. I might actually punch him next time.

[lb:02]: He's a very kind person if you're not a Guardian.

[aj:03]: I'll have to take your word for it.

[lb:03]: Will you be back soon?

[aj:04]: Probably not for a while.

[aj:05]: Maybe if I'm able to smuggle Cayde out here to try your noodles.

[lb:04]: If you do, hit me up.

[aj:06]: You must flirt outrageously with him. He'll think it's a hoot.

[lb:05]: Not into guys.

[aj:07]: Pretty sure he won't mind.

[lb:06]: See you around, Azra.

[aj:08]: Maybe I won't be such a stranger. Now I got a handle on the local restaurant scene.

[aj:09]: We'll see how my dislike for Uldren balances out with the food.

[lb:07]: It was fun while it lasted, yeah?

[aj:10]: Yeah. Take care.


	10. Ain't No Fixing This

Note: **WARNING. This chapter contains major (though canonical) character death. Tread lightly if you're very fond of Tevis Larsen.**

* * *

There ain't no fixing this, but I like that you tried  
Sometimes the hardest part is being right  
There ain't no helping me, but I like that you lied  
Sometimes it's worth the burn marks to feel the light

Dead Ends – Radical Face

* * *

June 06, 2954; Fleetbase Korus, Phobos

Azra spent hours nosing around Fleetbase Korus. Cabal architecture was boring and simplistic, the layouts gridlike. It wasn't the most interesting scouting mission she'd ever been on, but it was considered high-priority. The Vanguard was desperate for any scrap of intel on this new Taken threat. Unfortunately, she wasn't learning much about the Taken by poking at their goo. At least it wasn't a total waste of time. Cabal bases weren't often abandoned intact like this. Spark busied himself with language ciphers and transcriptions of the near-perfect databases. Azra wandered about, trying to get a read on the events that had taken place.

She was expecting a lot of things. She was expecting nothing but silence and stillness and floors covered in dripping Darkness. She was expecting an ambush. A Cabal ambush. A Taken ambush. Hell, she'd even prepared for the possibility that the Fallen would swoop in to take the base for themselves.

She was not expecting an emergency ping. Much less one from Cayde. She opened the feed.

He offered no preamble. "I know you're busy, but I'm officially calling you in on this one. There's a Vex gate in Ishtar that was spewing Goblins everywhere. Tevis went to investigate and dropped off the map."

Cayde couldn't have been any clearer. _Tevis is in trouble and he needs your help_. The Hunter Vanguard was better with the formalities nowadays, less panicking on the feed, but the urgency in his voice made Azra's stomach drop.

Spark disengaged from his work. Azra didn't bother gathering all the loot she'd been sorting. "Vex gate to where?" She asked. She was already running for the exit.

Cayde was near-frantic if you knew how to listen for it. He kept up the veneer of cool business but he couldn't hide things from Azra. "No idea. I sent that protégé of his after him, but she's still in transit."

"Quantis? Right." Quantis Rhee had a good head on her shoulders. Azra trusted her to hold her own at the very least. "Vex don't mass transport unless something's up. We need to know where- and when, for that matter, they're coming from."

"You're the Vexpert," Cayde said. "Any way to tell where that gate leads?"

Her feet pounded on the floor. Any caution for stealth had been thrown to the wind. "Nearest Vex architecture is planetside with the Virgo Prohibition," she said breathlessly. "And we don't have the processing power to do that kind of search, Cayde. Best bet is the Gate itself. Open or closed."

"Quantis will have boots on the ground in about a minute. We'll see what Tev says when we're in ping range." If he could say anything.

She hit the outer door. Automatic protocols had locked it. "I'm just about to my ship," she proclaimed as Spark got to work, "but the orbits aren't favorable. I'll be at least ten minutes."

The doors opened. Azra slid through as soon as she could fit. Her ship already hovered overhead.

Cayde's voice got clearer when Spark routed the comms through the ship's antenna. "Quantis is there." Had it been a minute already? "Comms are real spotty still, can't hardly make out Tevis. Said he went through the gate. It sounds bad."

"Great. He could be anywhere." Getting lost in the Vex gate system was a wild ride in the best of circumstances. It was just as likely to dump you deep in the Pyramidion or off of a waterfall as it was to just send you to the other side of Venus. "If that gate closes, Cayde, Quantis won't be able to get it open to the same coordinates."

"Will you?" Cayde asked.

The answer? She didn't know. The Vex gate network could be touchy, especially if it was Hezen Corrective hardware. "No promises," she muttered.

Azra's hands were white-knuckled on the controls. Her body was thrumming with restless, urgent energy. She needed to do something useful or she felt she'd explode with tension. "Deputize me for this one. I need to see the combat feed."

"We don't have the bandwidth for full video, but Sundance will send you some stills. There's a lot of dead Vex."

They broke free of Mars's gravity and made to swing under the plane of the solar system. Venus was on the other side of the Sun. Azra let Spark have the controls as the files came through.

Five seconds and her hands were back on the stick. Azra turned the ship so fast the inertial dampeners struggled to keep up. The air was forced from her lungs as physics pressed her back into her seat. "That's Sol Divisive," Azra ground out. The plant growth was a dead giveaway. "Those Vex came from the Black Garden, Cayde."

"That's… not good," Cayde said.

"No," she admitted. The Black Garden was no place to go lightly, and Tevis was alone. "I'm going to the Valley of Kings instead. I can use the gate there. Easier than trying to pull Sol Divisive logs from a Hezen Corrective structure. And faster. I'll be planetside in sixty seconds."

"You should hurry," Cayde said. "Quantis just reached the gate. It's closed. Tevis's Ghost…" The Gunslinger hesitated.

Azra's stomach dropped. "Spit it out, Cayde."

"She's dead. We're getting telemetry, but…" The rest didn't need to be said. If Tevis died, he'd stay that way. And he was alone.

"I'll bring him back, one way or another," Azra promised.

Cayde sounded unconvinced. "I'm sending Rhee in as your backup, but don't wait for her."

Her ship entered atmosphere at full burn. "ETA to the Valley of Kings: 40 seconds," Spark announced. "We're coming, Tevis."

* * *

Half a minute from the landing zone to get to the gate. Another twenty seconds obliterating the Vex guarding it. Five connecting to the network. They didn't waste any time pulling logs. A brute force algorithm with Tevis's telemetry data had the gate opened to the correct place in fifteen seconds.

Just over a minute after her feet touched the water-starved sands of Mars, they stepped through the portal onto rain-drenched stone.

Azra wasted just three seconds taking it all in. The cool, humid air was a shock after the baked heat of Mars. So three seconds to breathe deeply, scan the horizon, feel the shifts in Light the Garden produced and the fractured timespace the portal behind her was still shedding. Three seconds to lock onto Tevis's locator signal.

Then she started sprinting.

She'd been in the Black Garden before. Of course. She'd been everywhere. That didn't make the rock she ran over familiar ground. Normally she delighted in new, unsounded places, but there was not a thought in her head now beyond _find Tevis_. He could be gone already. There were Vex everywhere. Mostly dead ones. Azra didn't have time to mop up the rest. She blazed past them in a Light-fueled blur.

She almost ran right past him, too. Tevis Larsen was down but propped up against a stone block, Auto Rifle still in hand. Several Goblins were focused on him. Azra sent a vicious trail of Arc urgency along the floor and they scattered into bronze dust and radiolarian ash.

She stumbled the last few steps. The cost of her speed was catching up with her. As she looked down at Tevis, the cost of her sluggishness was clear as well.

She knelt.

Tevis had his helmet off already, so she could see how pale his face was. "I'm okay," he insisted. "I'm fine." That obviously wasn't true. He was sitting in a pool of his own blood.

_He's not talking about that_, Spark whispered. Tevis grabbed her wrist, looking her straight in the eye. He was collected. Ready.

"Tevis-"

He interrupted. "Jesus Christ, you look like _you're_ the one bleeding out." Spark informed her of three major wounds, each of which would be fatal on their own. Azra pulled out the bandages, but…

The shots had passed through his abdomen. Limbs, simple things like muscle and bone, she could deal with. She couldn't sew up intestines or lungs.

"I'll die before you can get me anywhere," Tevis acknowledged. Azra nodded and applied pressure anyway. Even if it only bought a few minutes. Her hands were oddly steady.

"You're hurt, too," Tevis pointed out. Azra had been so frantic, she hadn't even noticed one of the Goblin's lasers had punched through a weak spot in her armor.

"I have a Ghost," she said. "You…"

"I know," Tevis said. "Thetis died before I went through the gate."

"Why," Azra said. _Why take such a risk?_

"Guys gotta die sometime, right? And Black Garden Vex don't just flood Ishtar without reason." He couldn't keep the pain off of his face, but underneath that, he looked oddly _humorous_. "Go stop that for me, will you?"

"Tevis," Azra groaned, half in grief and half in exasperation. Like she was going to leave him in his last moments to go chase down some random Mind.

"It's important," the Nighstalker insisted.

"After this," Azra said. "Don't you dare ask me again to do it before."

He seemed resigned to it. Something in his eyes shifted. "Quantis," the old Nightstalker commanded. Azra hadn't noticed the other Hunter approach (proved how distracted she was). The willowy Awoken took the last few paces and crouched on Tevis's other side. Her eyes were wide.

"Take this, and go," Tevis growled. Azra felt a familiar tingle rush over her skin. With a good deal of effort, Tevis summoned his Bow. It was long, jagged, curled with secrets and straining against its own strength. He thrust it into Quantis's hands. "Don't look back."

The young woman looked a bit startled to be holding her mentor's Bow. She opened her mouth to say something, then closed it again, at a loss for words. After a moment, she found them. "Thank you. It's… been an honor." Quantis Rhee placed a familiar Ghost shell in the old Nightstalker's hand like someone placing an offering at a shrine. Then she rose fluidly, eyeing her new weapon, eyeing Tevis still half-sprawled on the ground.

She nodded. Then she turned and left, determination set in her shoulders.

She didn't look back.

"Kid'll be a better Nightstalker than I ever was," Tevis rumbled. "All she needed was a push. Here, help me sit up."

Azra hooked an arm behind his back and helped him shift his weight. Unrestrained Void Light sparkled and flared around them. "Never understood why you started taking apprentices again," Azra grunted. She moved back to tending his wounds as best she could. Tevis clutched his dead Ghost.

"Maybe someone showed me how… unterrible it could be," He mumbled. Azra smiled weakly. The Nightstalker hissed and grimaced as she stuffed gauze into the hole in his stomach. "God, this sucks. The dying part. Why's it always gotta hurt so much?"

Azra didn't have anything to say. Too many emotions were battling for space in her heart. Anger, sorrow, grief-

"That's not how it's supposed to be," Tevis said. She looked at his face and saw the way it _was_ supposed to be: acceptance, peace, and not a hint of fear.

"I'm not a Nightstalker," Azra spat, feeling the tears finally forming in her eyes. "For all I can pull the Bow, Tevis, I'm not a Nightstalker."

"Could have sworn," Tevis said. His voice was growing unsteady. "When the Light was right, I couldn't tell the difference."

Shiro's voice interrupted them on the comms. He was half-drowned out by the wind and the hum of Sparrow engines. "I'm here. I'm coming. What's the emergency?"

There was a moment of silence on the channel. Azra was the one to break it. "Tevis… isn't going to make it. His Ghost is gone, and, well… he's lost a lot of blood."

"How long?" Shiro asked.

The bandages were soaked. "Minutes," Azra said.

Not long enough to actually get here. There was another pause. Azra heard the whine of Shiro's Sparrow wind down to idle in the background.

"Listen," Tevis said. He shifted, grimacing hard and gripping at his chest. Spark was sorting through the medkit, looking for something.

The Nightstalker continued. "We all knew this was gonna happen eventually. My will's fresh. It's in the network. I'm ready. This doesn't need to be a big deal."

"'Course it's a big deal, Tevis!" Cayde finally interrupted. "You're dying, for Pete's sake!"

"You thought I was going to live forever?" The Nighstalker answered back. Cayde had no retort.

"I have something," Spark whispered. He deposited a shiny tube on the ground by Azra's foot.

"The morphine?" Azra muttered. "That's… oh." They kept it more as a last resort than for any medicinal purposes.

Tevis made a small confused noise, so she explained. "It's used in hospitals for… you know, people in a lot of pain." She rolled the syringe in her fingers. "I started looking into medical stuff after that business with the kidnapping, after Elyksul, and Mare Ibrium, and, well… there was a situation after the Vault I was unfortunately shorthanded of good ways to end things. Too much of this will kill you, but not… in an unpleasant way?"

"Better than this, right?" Tevis said. He nodded impatiently.

Azra's hands shook just the slightest bit as she administered it. She felt better moments later when Tevis let out a sigh of relief and let his head rest back on the stone.

"I swear if you pull that same bullshit you did with Andal on me…" He murmured. His breathing was getting shallow.

She shrugged. "This time I get to say bye, at least." Azra paused for a moment. "Oh, goodbye, by the way."

Tevis snorted. "You're a pain in the ass. I'll be glad to be rid of you."

"Say hi to Andal for me," Azra said. Tevis looked at her with obvious disbelief in his eyes. He had little faith in anything, anymore. Azra leaned close, near-whispering, like there was anyone around to hear that couldn't already. "I've been everywhere, man. I _seen_ things." Tevis averted his eyes and grumbled something unintelligible.

"We'll be fine, Tevis," Shiro soothed on the feed. "And you'll be fine, too."

Cayde took in a deep breath, like he was about to say something important, but then he just held it. He was afraid saying anything would make it too real.

Azra let her crouch slide so she and Tevis were sitting together against the stone block. "What's it like?" Tevis murmured. His grip on her hand was weak. "Where you've been?"

She propped his head on her shoulder. "It's peaceful. Like taking a walk out in the black, but with no suit. You don't need a suit, 'cause you're dead, right? Everything is less sharp. It's… hard to carry specifics." Tevis's eyes were hazy and unfocused. His dark eyelashes were in stark contrast with his deathly-pale skin. The background noise from Cayde and Shiros' feeds was like a physical presence. Azra could almost imagine them looking over her shoulder.

"More Nightstalker than I thought," Tevis muttered.

"It'll be alright," Azra said. She meant it.

"G'bye, Azra." His face scrunched with the effort of saying the words. "Cayde. Shiro."

"So long," Shiro said. He'd be alright. He could take this without breaking.

Cayde choked on his words. Tevis snickered quietly. His hand squeezed hers, so faint, but Azra understood. She translated. "He's laughing at you, Cayde. 'Cause you're a big dummy."

Cayde let out a sigh, sounding _relieved_ somehow, and it was Azra's turn to chuckle. She fondly brushed the curls from Tevis's forehead. "Bye, Tev. Stay safe."

He hummed in response, a low, barely-audible note in his chest. His grip on her arm released. His eyes fluttered shut.

He lay there breathing for a few more minutes, but he never regained consciousness. Slowly, the breaths grew slower, more shallow. The faint pulse faded under Azra's thumb. Tevis's Light dimmed and faded. It flared just for a second at the end, a miniature nova, then it was gone.

The destruction of the Undying Mind seemed more like a footnote after that.

* * *

THE LAST WILL AND TESTAMENT OF TEVIS LARSEN:

The date's December 31, year 2953. Just pretend I said some legalese here that makes all this official. It seems every time I look up the damn words they change. Sound mind and body, yadda yadda. Straight to business.

For the testament: I know I've said all this before, but it bears repeating, 'cause it's important.

Maybe I died in some tragically heroic way. Maybe I tripped and knocked my Ghost into a Flame Turret. It doesn't matter. Death is cheap. I've died thousands of times, prob'ly tens of thousands. This one's no different from the rest, in my mind. It's just the end. One moment.

Whatever I died for isn't near as important as what I lived for. And I've lived for centuries. I've seen babies born, grow, age, and die. I've seen civilization collapse and rebuild itself. I've had a longer life than most could dream for and I've used it the best I could.

If there's one thing I can leave behind, let it be that. Your last choice isn't any more important than all the choices before it. You have more impact every single day than you know. I've seen it. I've seen seeds planted grow and bloom, kindness lead into kindness to trust and hope. I've seen hate sow hate and come up bloodshed. I hope there's more flowers than fields of corpses left behind me. That's all anyone can hope for.

If you've been listening, you've been listening. I've lived my life well and good. However I died, even the fact that I died, isn't as important as that. I don't know how much more obvious I can be. Maybe now that I'm dead, some of you fools will finally unstop your ears and hear me.

That's all I got as far as parting sentiments, least publicly available ones. I got private notes for you three. But for my personal affects:

Nobody's getting my cloak. None of you need it and I'm not letting it haunt no-one. Burn it with me if you can.

Quantis Rhee gets first pick of the guns. 'Cept the Icebreaker, Cayde, you can have that one. I stole it from you, anyhow. If Azra really wants that Auto Rifle with the bayonet she can have it, but I doubt she does. Anything Rhee doesn't take and you don't want, give to the Kinderguardian fund. Plant a few more flowers.

I lost a bet nearly eighty years ago to Cayde that I leave all my liquid assets to New Monarchy. Joke's on you, hotshot, 'cause now you can't have my Gimmer. Tell Hideo if he uses any of it for campaigning I'll sicc Azra on him. Still not fond on his policies.

I've seen you making eyes at Graviton Forfeit, Azra. She's yours. Not like it'll fit on Cayde's big head anyway. Same with the rest of the armor. If it fits, take it. Else sell it and give the money to the Vanguard.

Sparrow goes to Shiro. Cayde can have the nice sword. Draw lots for the knives between the three of you, I've got too many at this point to keep track of year-to-year.

This is assuming all of the aforementioned people are still living. Follow their wills if they aren't, I guess. If all this posthumous gifting causes you trouble-

Well, joke's on you. Ain't my problem anymore.

Tevis out.

* * *

Cayde.

You've been a pain in my ass for 182 years. I don't think I need to say how privileged I've been to know you. We've thrown a lot of shit, but I've always known exactly where I stand with you, and that's been important to me. Solid ground's harder to come by than you think. I've always felt steady with you at my back.

You know how I feel already. Make sure you don't forget it.

There's only one thing I haven't said, mostly 'cause you've been too afraid to ask it- I think you're a good Vanguard. Andal would be damn proud. Sometimes life gives you a shit hand and you have to figure out how to put the cards down. I'm glad you haven't cheated your way out of this one. You're doing _good_, Cayde. Your Hunters adore you. I've seen you doing your best by them.

I know the comparison's going to be made. You're no Andal. I know that, you know that. We don't need another Andal. Azra and Shiro- assuming they haven't died with me- they don't need you to look after them like that. They're both grown in their own rights. They just need someone to have their backs. Someone to come home to. Stable ground, you know? Ikora and Zavala need perspective and boldness, lest they rest on their laurels.

The only thing you need to do for people is just keep being yourself. You do that, you're gonna be fine.

You still owe me a drink.

-Tevis

* * *

Shiro,

Everything's already settled between us. Don't rightly know what to say to you that won't just be rehashing things I've already said. It's been an honor fighting with you. Seeing you come into your own. How come I've been alive three times as long as you have and you still speak better Fallen? And you track better, too?

Don't let your talents go to waste. And speaking of talents-

This responsibility's only yours if you take it. I know you're much more of a Bladedancer than a Nightstalker, but you understand the world. And you're approachable. There aren't a lot of friendly faces around for people new at the Void. Keep an eye on them for me? Lot of 'em you can't help, most of those you shouldn't try, but you've got Lee-4's perspective and you know mine. Even better, you have your own. That even-tempered heart will do you more favors than you think.

And keep Azra close. Assuming, you know, she's not dead too. I know you both run a lot of solo missions, I know Cayde's always on her line, but she'll get lonely out there. That fireteam of hers can't keep her tied down like you can. And let her look after you, too, huh?

Live well, Shiro. That's all I can really ask of you.

-Tevis

* * *

Azra,

Every year, I'm just happy I have to make one of these. I didn't for nearabout six decades. Do you know how damned lucky we are to have seen each other again? I know you know. Just think on it. You were dead, gone, then you appear again out of the blue and go about laughing in the face of death again. If there's one thing I've learned from you, it's belief in the impossible.

That being said, don't keep any candles burning for me. You know my position on this. I think you understand it best, out of the three of you.

I've asked Shiro this. I've been on the fence with you. You know what fame's like, you know the kind of people will come calling after you, but all the same. You know what it's like to not be understood. We lose as many new Hunters to rigid doctrine and tunnel vision as we do to the Cabal. I was there for you when you needed someone to listen. I'd like you to be that for others. So many Nightstalkers stumble on their paths.

Talk to people, would you? Share yourself. I know you do a lot of thinking in that head of yours. I know most people don't know how to listen. Make the effort for those who do. They'll surprise you. I've only known you for a sliver of my life and you've made a pretty sizeable impression on me.

I know you only ever kept one big secret from me. Only fair I kept one from you. Now I'm gone, here's the tit for the tat: I know. I know you see things. I can feel it in your Light sometimes when it happens. I know why you wouldn't talk about something like that, so I haven't pushed it. I don't need to push it. I know you, Jax. Ain't never told anybody, but… it must have been some time after Twilight Gap I realized. So all this time, someone understood.

That's the best gift I can offer you. Normally I'd speak some doubt about what happens after this, but… if you've taught me one lesson, anything is possible.

I'll see you on the flip side. Maybe.

-Tevis


	11. Part 1: A Million Roads

Look up, there's a world in front of you  
A million roads yet you still wonder what to do  
You must find that thrive, that love, that thrill  
Cause in your eyes you're the king of your world

Kings – Tristam

* * *

April 04, 2884; 150 km SE of Old Kabul, Earth

How had it all gone so wrong? Half an hour ago, they had been eating dinner. Now Alekto was going to die.

She was going to die half an hour ago anyway, in truth, she just hadn't known it then. It had been quiet. A normal evening, at least as normal as they got in this backwater scrap of wilderness. Dinner was edible greens Radomir had found somewhere and some questionably tinned meat. The usual.

They'd settled down, Jove had left to get water, then a ship appeared out of nowhere. Then seven more followed. The little peaceful campsite they'd stopped at had turned into a battlefield.

Alekto had fought these aliens before. They mostly seemed to leave well enough alone. She couldn't believe the screaming Dregs and Vandals were here to wipe out their tiny party of three- though as to what their true purpose was here she had no idea. She just knew that they fell from their transports thirsty for blood.

It was so unfair- just three months of life she'd tasted. Three months scrabbling in the wilderness, dreaming of a City she'd never get to see. She'd had two friends, maybe even a brother in one of them, but she thought she'd get _more_. Her Ghost had promised her more.

Bullets pattered the ground around her, throwing up tuffs of dust. Alekto did her best to not get hit. She was running. There were just too many aliens to fight alone. And she was alone- she couldn't even see the swarm of creatures where Radomir was. He might as well have been on the Moon for all the chance she had at getting to him. Her own swarm was in the way.

Her Ghost was rambling even as she took potshots at the aliens. It was rather distracting. She was trying to have a quick existential crisis before she died for real, but he was pulling at her focus.

She felt guilty for a moment when he finally did shut up. She thought for a second that he'd gotten caught in some crossfire, and the thought of him dying, too, made her stomach drop.

But he wasn't dead, just surprised. "Guardians!" he called out. "Finally, someone heard the distress signal! We're saved!"

They'd been sending out calls for weeks, months, as long as she'd been living, but the waves had remained oddly empty of friendly signals. Any day they'd hoped to get a confirmation ping or see a Guardian jumpship appear over the horizon. The universe had remained silent until now.

But _now_: there were people on the ridge behind her- four of them. They slid down the embankment with a practiced ease, guns still in hand. It was ray of hope. Alekto was weak, untrained, but maybe actual professional Guardians could take care of the aliens. Maybe she could reschedule her crisis for another time.

She tried to take in everything about them. Their gear was hardly uniform, but they all had a similar figure to them. Every inch of them was covered, from their face-obscuring helmets to the boots on their feet. Their gear didn't look like shiny plasteel. It was lighter, obviously, by the way the four transitioned from sliding to running without breaking stride.

But the thing that stood out immediately in Alekto's mind were the capes. Each of the four figures had some swath of fabric thrown over their shoulders. The styles and colors were mismatched, but they all had them.

The one with black fabric ended up in front. He called out something. Two words, Alekto thought, but they didn't make sense. "Tev! Jax!"

The two Guardians on the wings slowed their pace suddenly, bending low with the pressure of unspent momentum, then leaping into the air. She thought they must have practiced it. They were perfectly in sync. They hung in the air just a second more than she thought gravity would allow, appearing to pose. Ephemeral lights danced around their silhouettes. There were two rising screeches, then identical whistles. The Guardians dropped to the ground and kept running.

The mass of Fallen behind Alekto exploded into mayhem. Shifting purple light flickered among them like fire. The Guardians were rapidly approaching now. Would Alekto be able to run that fast some day?

The one giving orders flung his arm in an exaggerated gesture. "Azra! Sicc!"

"Andal!" the one on the left yelled. She was plaintive. (Her cloak was green.)

"I know!" he yelled back.

The one on the left shook her head and peeled away towards Alekto. The other three turned as one and began unleashing fire on the other party near Radomir.

The Guardian slid the last meter and came up grappling with a Vandal. "Move!" she commanded. Alekto hastily tripped away. The Guardian swept the Vandal's feet out from underneath it. Then she exploded.

Or the Fallen exploded. She emerged from the cloud of dust and static like a vengeful angel. Purple light shimmered everywhere still, mixing with her crackling blue to make a maelstrom of death. She danced in the flickering glow. Alekto backed further away, weary of getting caught in the crossfire. It went on and on, seconds ticking by as Alekto's heart raced. But there were no cries of pain, no chirrups of a Ghost hovering over their fallen Guardian.

Until the all of the sudden the crackling ended. No Fallen remained. The Guardian was alone on the field, crouched low, panting. She slid into a kneeling position as Alekto approached.

She didn't see the last Vandal. Alekto felt a sudden weight on her shoulders, claws tearing through the armor on her back and upper legs, the buzzing hiss of a shock blade-

Then the weight disappeared. A muffled pop echoed off the hills. Alekto jumped forward, scrambling for her gun- but the Vandal was already dead. Alekto's Ghost whispered something about a sniper on the ridgeline.

Whatever. The electric Guardian was slumped even further forward, heaving at the air like she was drowning. Alekto stalled a few meters away. The air still crackled with sparks. She wondered if approaching was really the smart thing to do.

"She needs help," Ghost said, so Alekto took a few cautious steps.

Then was immediately interrupted by the sound of running footfalls. One of the other Guardians was back- the one in black. The order-giver. He approached his companion with no hesitation, looped an arm under her shoulders, and pulled her to her feet. The female Guardian staggered, groaning.

"I'm sorry," he apologized. "I know. Tev and Cayde are still getting the rest."

"Is she okay?" Alekto asked. "What happened?"

"She had to push herself a bit too far." The man looked Alekto up and down. "Can you cast a rift?"

"A what?"

"Never mind," the man muttered.

"I'm _fine_," the woman growled. She _did_ seem steadier on her feet than she had a minute ago. She straightened and pulled away from her companion.

Alekto started to say something, but both of the others tensed and turned to look across the battlefield. A clap like thunder rolled across the open space.

"Damn," the man swore. "Okay, I'll go help with that. You figure out what's going on here."

He turned and sprinted off back where he'd come from without another word. The woman rolled her shoulders and stretched her neck from side to side.

Then she removed her helmet and spit on the ground. Alekto was taken back by how _normal_ she looked. She'd pictured the Guardians of the City with chiseled jawlines and fire in their eyes. The Guardian's eyes were full of something, but it looked more like impatience than inspiration. She gestured jerkily. "So. Spill."

Alekto was still trying to process what had happened. "Spill… what?"

"What's going on here. Why are you all in the middle of a war zone? Fresh as you are."

The accusation in her voice stung Alekto's pride. "It wasn't a warzone yesterday!" she protested.

"Yes it was." The green-clad Guardian sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. "How old are you?"

"Three months?" Why was that so important?

"Jesus." The older Guardian looked at her with… what was that expression on her face? "Alright. So you won't know much. Let's head back over to your… friend. I'm sure those three will have things wrapped up shortly."

The mention of _friend_ helped her remember. "Jove!"

"By jove? What?" The Guardian's face twisted in confusion.

Alekto grabbed her arm desperately as she moved to turn away. "My friend, Jove! We have to help him!"

The Guardian's arm was tense and hard as rock under her hand. "Listen," she soothed, "even with the Baron, Cayde and Tevis have a handle on things. Your friend is fine."

"Not Radomir, _Jove_!"

"There's three of you?" she asked.

"Yes! That's what I'm trying to tell you! He left to get water right before the aliens- oh God, he's all alone out there!"

"Deep breaths," the Guardian answered her. "No use to anyone if you hyperventilate and pass out. Jove, you said his name was?"

Alektro nodded frantically. The other Guardian wormed her way out of the deathgrip on her arm. "They as new as you?"

"Yes!" Oh Gods, he was probably dead already. He'd died thirsty. Or he'd come back and find all of their corpses and he'd be _alone_-

"No need to shout. Warlock?"

"What?"

"Are they a Warlock. Like you." The Guardian seemed almost too calm. Like it was every day people were dying on her.

"Yes," Ghost answered. "He's a Warlock. Our other friend, Radomir, is the Titan."

The Guardian frowned. "Great. Alright. Andal?" She paused a second. Then, "They're new. Talking months here. Apparently there's three of them." Another pause. "Off to get water, she said."

The Guardian fixed Alekto with a hard stare. "Which direction did Jove go? And which way's the water?"

"Isn't that… wouldn't that be the same question?"

"Never can tell, with Warlocks. I need an answer."

"Uh, there's a river about five minutes away." She fidgeted with the cuffs of her sleeves, not knowing what else to do. Shouldn't they be going to help already?

"Which _direction_," the Guardian stressed.

"I'm... uh, that way?" Alekto gestured to the woods Jove had walked off into.

"Alright. General direction of Northeast. Yup. Alright."

She turned back to Alekto. "If we link you to the comms system, can you keep quiet and not distract anybody? It'll be a lot less confusing for you."

Alekto and her Ghost looked at each other. "Yes please."

"Alright. Just. Literally don't say anything unless someone asks you a question. People have to focus."

Alekto's earpiece crackled to life. An unfamiliar voice was mid-sentence. "-ig guy, ain't he?"

"Harder they fall," another new voice growled.

"We're heading over," the Guardian announced, twinned on the feed and in real life.

"Be fast," someone said. "This valley is exposed, we need to get moving."

The Guardian gestured to Alekto. "Let's get a move on. They'll have that Baron dead before we get there."

* * *

The six Risen gathered in a cluster at the forest's edge. The field behind them lay scattered with Fallen bodies and the shells of Servitors.

Alekto had so many questions, but kept her mouth shut. The Guardian's instructions had been very clear.

It was really annoying that she didn't know anyone's name, though. She could infer- she'd decided the black-caped commander was probably named Andal.

He spoke as Alekto and the Guardian that had saved her - Jax, maybe?- approached. "We're getting a lot of reports of Fallen movement. House Winter seems damned determined to have this place, Devils seems damned determined to out them. Zavala's put a moratorium on this whole area until things settle down. No way jumpships are getting through."

That answered a few questions, at least. Alekto grabbed Radomir's hand- the Titan seemed miraculously no worse for wear. She thanked whatever gods were out there.

"Jove," Radomir said. "We need to find him."

"_We_ need to find him," the Guardian in the beige cloak spoke up. His voice had a harsh mechanical edge to it. "_You_ need to get the hell out of here."

"Gonna need an escort," the marron-caped one pointed out.

There was a crackle over the comms, a cut-off swear. All four of the older Guardians turned to look up the ridge they'd arrived from. Something that sounded like a very loud, very angry bee whizzed by Alekto's head.

"Fallen on the ridge!" another unfamiliar voice announced. Everyone reacted very quickly. Alekto and Radomir were physically dragged into the tree cover.

Andal swore. "Alright, no going back. Azra?"

Alekto's Guardian (Azra it was, then) spoke up. "Nearest cover is due east but Islamabad's in the way. I'd say best bet is Southeast, follow the Indus River 'till we get clear. That's two hundred klicks to the river, then at least another hundred fifty downstream. Or we could go north of Islamabad and find some cover in the mountains."

"Southeast, then," Andal said with urgency. "No telling how far the dead zone goes, not playing hide-and-seek in the mountains with a Fallen war going on. How's it going, Shiro?"

There was a heartbeat of silence on the feed. Andal repeated his question.

"He's dancing," the unfamiliar voice answered back.

"He's gonna need someone to cover him when he's done," beige-cape pointed out.

"I know," Andal said. "And we still need that other Kinderguardian."

"Good news- think we'll get this whole party," the voice said.

"Good," Andal sighed. "Alright. Clear out of there, circle around west and south. Azra, Cayde, go find that other Guardian. Me and Tev will take these two."

"The dead zone," Azra said.

Andal shook his head. "Plant a booster, it'll give us time. We'll come back for it later. If we can't link up before, rally point is Multan. Don't go near Islamabad."

Azra shook her head and held out a hand for her Ghost. Beige-cape (Cayde?) did likewise. Two light vehicles of some kind materialized on the ground. "Told ya it was worth it," the Exo bragged.

"You'll be feeling it tonight," Azra said back.

The two boarded their vehicles and shot off without another word.

"We've a lot of ground to make," the maroon-cloak said. "Let's get going."

* * *

Jove was dead.

Then he wasn't.

That's how it always seemed to be. There wasn't the disorientation or nausea his friends described. He just was dead, then he wasn't.

The young Warlock sat up and looked around. The aliens who had killed him weren't here, but he wasn't alone. At first he thought the two were Alekto and Radomir- but he quickly realized they weren't. They had on capes, for one, and they weren't the right heights. Their two vehicles idled nearby.

"You're Jove, right?" said one. She held out a hand to help him up. "Alekto sent us. She's alive, and so is your other friend. But we gotta clear out of here, more Fallen are on their way."

"Where is my revolver?" Jove asked. He patted himself down, suddenly realizing he was missing his canteen, and the pot they used for cooking, and his armor.

"Fallen killed you and nicked your stuff while you were down," the other one explained. "Them's the breaks." (Was he an Exo? His voice was odd.)

Jove held out a hand for his Ghost, Sharps. The small drone settled on his palm. "I regret to inform you that these Hunters are correct. The only things we have left are the shotgun and the Glimmer. Everything else has been stolen."

"We need to jet," the woman said. "Party of Skiffs just went by. We'll have Fallen on our tail for sure. And Shiro's still in his mess."

"You got the newbie," the Exo said. "I'm going to circle back around for our troubled Bladedancer."

"Figured," the woman muttered. "Leave me with the hard job."

The man shrugged. "Running straight at the enemy and beating them off Shiro with a stick isn't the hard job?"

"C'moooon," she groaned.

But the Exo would hear none of it. "You and him are the scouts. Lots of wayfinding to do in this area, navigating 'round the Fallen armies in the dark. It's the right choice. I'm pulling rank."

The woman seemed to deflate. "Just… stay safe, then."

"Wilco." The Exo slid onto one of the bikes with practiced ease. He finally addressed Jove. "Not that I wouldn't enjoy your company," he drawled, not sounding very sincere, "but my buddy needs me. You'll be fine with Azra."

The woman was all business now. "We'll have to take the river at least a few klicks east," she reported. "I'll leave a sign at our turnoff in case Southwest gets too hot and you have to backtrack here."

"See you in Multan," the Exo said. The woman tapped a finger to her forehead in a mockery of a salute, then shooed him off.

The Exo revved his engines and shot off upstream.

The woman turned her full attention on Jove. She gestured to her own bike. "We'll talk later. Get on."

* * *

They rode for a long time. Jove completely lost track of where they were. It was all he could do to stay on the vehicle. A million questions raced through his head- where were they going? Where were Alekto and Radomir? Why didn't they just get on a spaceship and fly away?

He tried screaming these questions over the rushing wind, with little affect. He wasn't sure the Hunter could even hear him.

Eventually he built up the courage to let go with one hand to reach up and tap her shoulder.

In response, a helmet was transmatted onto his head. It was too big for him. There were a couple of beeps from the internal speakers, then the woman's voice growled in his ear. "I said we'd talk later."

"_Now_ is later," Jove insisted. "Where are we going? Where's Radmomir and Jove?"

She readjusted her position on the seat. "We're going away from the warzone. They're going a different way."

"But are they alright? They're on their own. I left-"

"They're _fine_," she said. "Tevis and Andal have them."

"Who-"

"I'm trying to _drive_, here," the woman spat. "Talk later, when I'm not driving."

Jove really wanted to stop, he did. The words came out anyway. "But what-"

He shouldn't have been so distracted. The Guardian pulled a particularly hard turn and Jove's body rose out of the vehicle's seat. He grabbed desperately at the Hunter. She grunted in surprise as the vehicle spun. They fishtailed wildly for a moment, then the Guardian just let _go_, sending both her and Jove tumbling through the underbrush. Everything was spinning madness, then their momentum stopped.

Jove blinked his eyes open to find himself surprisingly unhurt. The Hunter was swearing. She was all tangled up with him; he'd managed to keep his hold on her waist. She pulled herself free as Jove tried to orient himself.

The vehicle was about twenty meters away, upside-down and tangled in an uprooted bush. The Hunter's litany of swears did not stop as she righted the vehicle and ripped off the foliage.

She looked at Jove. The blank face of her helmet gave her an intimidating air as she spoke. "I am not trying to be bossy, but there is a buttload of Fallen on our tail and if we're not out of here in the next twenty seconds this day's going to get interesting, and not in a good way. If you get on the Sparrow and keep your mouth shut except for literal life-and-death questions, I will answer anything you want when we stop. Literally anything. _Please_."

Jove managed to get his feet underneath him. His legs and back were sore from riding. The forest seemed calm, but the Hunter radiated an anxious energy. She as taut as a clothesline.

Jove decided that maybe this time he could go for the delayed gratification. The Hunter's idea of an 'interesting time' really didn't appeal. He nodded wordlessly and re-mounted the vehicle.

* * *

TYPE: LIVE COMBAT FEED  
PARTIES: Three [3]. One [1] Guardian-type, Class Titan, designate Radomir [r]; One [1] Guardian-type, Class Hunter, designate Andal Brask [ab]; One [1] Guardian-type, Class Hunter, designate Tevis Larsen [tl]  
ASSOCIATIONS: Brask, Andal; Cayde-6; Fallen; Jax, Azra; Jove; Larsen, Tevis  
/AUDIO UNAVAILABLE/  
/TRANSCRIPT FOLLOWS.../

[r:01]: Are you sure he'll be alright?

[ab:01]: As sure as I can be, given the circumstances.

[r:02]: That's not making me feel better.

[ab:02]: I'm not going to lie and tell you there's no risk at all involved. But Azra and Cayde have seen a lot worse.

[r:03]: Jove hasn't.

[tl:01]: Jove has a very powerful Gunslinger and a damn good scout looking after him.

[r:04]: So why wouldn't they be okay?

[ab:03]: There's a lot of variables involved here. There's a lot of opportunity for things to go wrong, and without comms I can't be sure they haven't happened. We are in a war zone.

[ab:04]: But those two have the skills to pull themselves out of some very bad situations.

[tl:02]: All the skill in the world can't account for bad luck.

[ab:05]: Cayde doesn't get unlucky.

[tl:03]: There's that, I suppose.

* * *

They drove until the sun set. Darkness had just begun to leach the color from the world when the Hunter pulled up abruptly. She dismounted first. Jove was much slower, sore and stiff from the hours of riding. As soon as he stood free, the Sparrow dissolved into particles of light.

"We're stopping here for the night," the Hunter explained. "Sparrow makes too much light and heat, we'll stand out like a signal flare. We'll pick back up at dawn."

"O…kay," Jove said. He was still wary of drawing the Guardian's ire. She already sounded like she was in a bad mood.

She laced her fingers together and stretched them above her head for a long moment. When she relaxed, her whole posture was looser. She sat on the ground and began stretching out her legs. "I promised to talk. We can talk. 'Least while we rest. You hungry?"

"No," said Jove truthfully. All the excitement had put a damper on his appetite. He settled himself on the hard ground with a groan. It seemed every muscle in his body was sore.

"Stretching will help," the Hunter offered. "Here, copy me." She folded one leg close to her body and stretched the other out.

Jove copied. It hurt some, but in a good way. "You are a Hunter, aren't you?" he asked, suddenly aware of the assumption he'd made.

"What gave it away?" she drawled. She leaned forward over her outstretched leg.

"The cape, I think," Jove answered. "My Ghost told me that is usually a Hunter garment."

The Hunter groaned. "You new Lights never have any sense of humor."

"I… I'm sorry?" the Warlock said. And then after a pause, "I don't think I was told your name."

"Azra Jax," she replied. "Just call me Azra. My Ghost is Spark. You?"

"Me what?"

"Is Jove your full name? What should I call your Ghost?"

"Yes," he said. "And Sharps?"

She nodded. "Jove and Sharps. Alright. We going to be chatting about names and stuff all night?"

"Radomir," Jove said, suddenly urgent. "And Alekto. You're sure- what happened?"

She shrugged and switched legs. "Fallen came at 'em while you were out on your water run. We pulled their butts out of that mess. They went with Andal and Tevis- two of my Pack. Don't worry yourself there- that pair can handle anything, and they'll have an easier time of it than we will. Cayde went around to pick up the last member of my Pack, Shiro, who'd gotten ambushed on his sniper perch. We a set up a rally point before we all split. We'll head towards that if we don't get a signal through the radio interference before then. We've had to circle pretty far north. But don't worry, we'll all get out of this fine."

"Why don't we just fly out on your spaceship?" the Warlock asked. "Are they not as common as my Ghost says? Do you not have one?"

"Fallen artillery will shoot us down before we get two klicks. Or more likely they'll shoot my ship down before it gets down here from orbit. That's why we're going so far. We have to get out of range of hostile anti-air. _Then_ we'll take our jumphips back to the City." Azra demonstrated a stretch of placing the soles of her feet together and bending over her outstretched knees.

"Oh." Said Jove. He copied her position. He didn't even know the muscles he was stretching _existed _before today.

There was quiet for a minutes. Azra finished her stretching and started pulling out guns. She'd unload one, check it over thoroughly, reload it, then pull out another one. Each one Jove thought would surely be the last, but was surprised every time as she pulled out a sniper rifle, then some small handgun, then a stocky shotgun, then another handgun, a long gun of some kind, a longer shotgun, a submachine gun, a… was that a _grenade launcher_?

"Let's light a fire?" Jove asked. The air was getting noticeably chilly. His fists were balled up under his armpits to keep them warm. It wasn't working very well.

"No fires in enemy territory," Azra stated. "If the Sparrow would give us away, a campfire certainly would."

"I'm cold," Jove muttered. "How can you even _see_?"

"Low-light vision on the helmet," the Hunter said matter-of-factly. "And take this. But take off your shoes first."

Her Ghost deposited a plush cylinder in Jove's lap. "It's a sleeping bag," the small machine explained.

"You should try and get some rest," Azra said. "I'll keep watch."

He dutifully removed his boots and wiggled his way inside. The bag provided some immediate relief from the chilly air. His fingers were still stiff and numb, though. "Aren't you cold?"

"No," she said. Jove didn't really believe her, but a moment later he saw her blow into her hands. The dim orange of her Solar Light was impossible to miss in the darkness.

"I'll be alright," she said a bit more believably this time. "Far from the first night I've spent up. Not like I'd be able to sleep anyway. I'll wake you if anything suspicious happens."

Jove thought he'd have a hard time falling asleep, what with the no fire and his friends gone and the exposed tree roots that always seemed to pop up under his back no matter how he arranged himself. But the hard hours of riding caught up to him and the yawning blankness of sleep covered him before he knew it.


	12. Part 2: The Hurricane

Note: This was supposed to be a one-shot, and then I was like 'oh this is getting long, I'll split it into two parts' and now there's two parts and it's not even over. Why do I do this to myself?

* * *

Every inhale I take, swallows the ocean whole, and I am one  
With the hurricane, tall as the tide that laps with a rabid tongue  
With every exhale, I break you down with a fury, I lay the hills undone  
Like a dog gone untamed, bellowing out a river from my lungs

Notos – The Oh Hellos

* * *

?

Jove awoke disoriented. Had the fire gone out? He tried to sit up, only to find himself tangled in the blankets.

"Shush," a voice said. There was a hand on his shoulder. "We're hiding from the Fallen. You and your friends got caught in the crossfire yesterday. It's still about four hours until dawn."

The day's events came rushing back. Azra was crouched over him. "I'm sorry, we have to move," she said urgently.

"The Fallen found us?" Jove began frantically worming his way out of the sleeping bag. Azra's Ghost transmatted it away. The sudden shock of cold air brought Jove the rest of the way to consciousness.

"No," she said. "The wind's changed."

"The wind? What?"

She was frowning. "It doesn't storm around here, but… it's going to. Smell that." She took a deep inhale through her nose. Jove did the same. He _thought_ he could smell the difference. "I don't know where all this moisture is coming from, but it's going to rain. We're in danger of a flash flood. Not a pleasant way to die."

"So, we're…"

"Still hiding from the Fallen." Azra brushed off her hands and stood up. "But we need higher ground."

Jove had finally managed to get to his feet. "How long do we have?"

"Honestly?" Azra tilted her head again, peeing up at the sky. "I have no idea."

That wasn't comforting.

* * *

The wind slowly got more violent as Azra and Jove picked their way through the trees. Azra didn't slow pace for a second, even as Jove stumbled on rocks and tree roots he couldn't see. She just hauled him upright and set off again.

The rain hit all at once. It was just windy one moment, then there was a peal of thunder. The first raindrops began to hit a few seconds after that. A minute later, they were in a deluge. Jove was immediately soaked down to the bone. Azra never faltered, forging on. She was just a blur in Jove's vision.

He stumbled after her, scared of being left behind. He was very disoriented. He quickly lost track of time in the endless rain and wind. Had it been minutes? An hour? "We need to stop!" Jove shouted over the downpour.

"There's some kind of structure a klick uphill! Just fifteen minutes!" Azra shouted back.

"I'm wet!"

"Can't get any _more_ wet!"

But the dangers of the storm were making themselves known. The trees weren't used to this kind of weather, Jove supposed. Leaves and sticks were whipped through the air by the high winds. The ground was slick. Thunder boomed overhead. He had to bend double sometimes to keep from being pushed off his path from the force of the wind and rain.

Azra pulled them up short of a clearing, pointing through the rain. Jove could barely make out the pale shape of a broken-down building through the torrent. It was at least a hundred meters away across the open space.

Jove's fingers tingled with excitement. He was very ready to be out of this wet, windy hellscape. The clouds rumbled in agreement.

"We'll have to make a run for it," Azra said through gritted teeth. "The clearing goes all the way around. No cover."

The hairs on Jove's arms were standing on end. Anticipation? "Let's go, then! No use in waiting, right?"

"… Right," the Hunter muttered. "It's just… something's got me-"

A crack of lightning made both her and Jove jump. The Warlock didn't need any more encouragement to go.

He thought the rain couldn't be any worse, but without tree cover it came down almost painfully hard. His legs pumped, his breath whooshed, the hairs on the back of his neck raised-

There was something blinding, and earth-shattering noise-

* * *

The next thing Jove was aware of was pain.

Not the calm of death or the comfort of life unhurt, but the messy reality in between- living, but hurt. Dying, but not yet dead.

Someone was yelling.

"Jove! Jove! You have to stop!"

He didn't know how to stop, how to start. There was just the pain, the undeniable, unignorable pain and the force of the rain driving into his back.

The pain was energy, he realized. He could hear the crackling, in a detached way. All of his normal senses dimmed in comparison to this new experience. It was just power, overwhelming him, forcing everything else away in its endless tide.

There were hands on him, on his shoulders. How they didn't disintegrate, how the very ground beneath his knees didn't evaporate under the force of this power, he didn't know. Everything should be ash.

"Breathe," the voice commanded. "If you hold your breath you're going to pass out. Breathe."

Jove tried, he really did. His mortal lungs didn't want to obey. He coughed.

"God dammit." The hands grabbed him by the armpits. "I have the worst luck I swear to God, why does this always happen to me, everything has to go bottoms-up during a fucking once-in-a-century thunderstorm deep in the middle of a Fallen turf war-"

The voice kept going. It was something comfortable to follow, a rambling train of thought that never quite reached a conclusion. Jove realized he was being dragged over uneven ground.

Then they were inside. The crackling electricity seemed so much louder out of the rain. Jove curled up on himself.

"Jove, you- OW!" The hands disappeared. "You need to _calm down_. Breathe steady."

He was crying. Sobbing, more like it, great gasps of air that filled his lungs too much but the crushing in-between of holding his breath seemed so much like death.

"Where the fuck is your Ghost? Sharps? Sharps!"

"Right here," Sharps said. "I… I don't know what to do."

"He's going to burn himself out, or drive himself crazy, or… I don't know!" Hadn't that already happened? The crazy part. He was so, so small, and at the same time so vast, so removed- this couldn't be sanity.

His Ghost spoke more. "If I could help, I would! This- I've never seen this before from him! Can't you do anything?"

"I'm not a Warlock! How am I supposed to-"

A tense moment of silence.

"I'm a Guardian. And nobody knows the Arc like I do. I can- I can try, right?"

Jove couldn't sense her presence. He couldn't see her, or even really feel the hand she put on his back. But he could hear her, so when she asked something to that effect- the words floated away but their meaning was left, Jove tried to nod.

"I'm trying to help you, alright? You need to relax." Relax? How could he? If he stopped fighting for a moment, he'd be swept away, drowned, incinerated, swallowed up. It was all he could do just to keep his grip. His inevitable doom was roiling towards him like the flash flood Azra had promised, but it wasn't here _yet_, if he could beat this...

"Listen, this… isn't something you can fight. It's not like if you fight it, you'll lose, it's… fighting it _doesn't work_. If you could stop it and hold it, it wouldn't be Arc." Was this Arc, then? His Ghost had spoken of it before, but it was nothing like he'd described. Electricity surged through him and he felt so thin, so used up compared to it.

"Breathe. Alright? Let's just do that for right now. Breathe. In. Out." Jove gulped at the air like a dying man. He tried to slow his breath, but that left him gasping in, holding, and coughing out. Pain in his lungs made it though the screaming voice of the power. He was going to die. He was going to die for real.

"Smooooth," the Guardian's voice drawled. "Like… no, okay, like filling up a cooking pot. You can't splash it in. You gotta pour. Iiiiiiiiiin." Jove tried. He had no idea if there was improvement.

"And pour it out just as slow. Oooouuuut. Iiiiiiiin. Oouut. Like that. With me. In. Out."

The electricity, the Arc, boiled up around him. He gasped. The whipcrack of the Hunter's voice held him down. "Don't stop. In. Out. Jove, you're trying to hold on. You can't hold on. Let it go." He couldn't. He just couldn't. If he plunged himself into the power now, he'd never come back.

"We found you by a river. You ever stood in one? Gone swimming?" He had, he wanted to tell her, but he couldn't feel his lips. The Hunter just rambled on. "You're out in the main channel now, kid, and you can't stand up. I don't think- you're not equipped to swim, yet. So you gotta let go of the current. Take a step towards shore." What was shore in this metaphor? And how was he supposed to go there? How was that supposed to _help_?

"Focus on me, alright? And keep breathing. And think about that cooking pot, maybe. You don't need to fill it up as full. Maybe only two-thirds, yeah? In. Out. Flatten out your hands. Palms on the floor." Jove fumbled and found his fingers. He uncurled them from the fists they'd been in.

"Good!" She sounded genuinely excited. "Keep breathing. Can you feel your elbows?" A hand touched his right one, which he let bend. "Focus on _me_. On here."

He grasped what she was trying to do with sudden clarity. The crackling power was dimmer in his mind now. Shifting his attention away from it didn't make it rise up to drown him, it made it buzz weaker. Like how every step towards the riverbank would make it easier to stand.

He focused every ounce of will he had towards unclenching his jaw and relaxing his shoulders, and instead of the Arc overwhelming him, it faded away. He opened his eyes and saw dirt-encrusted tiles. The dirt was turning into mud where he dripped rainwater on it. Everything was lit by a glow too blueish to be his Ghost's flashlight.

He turned his head up and looked at the Hunter. Her eyes were that exact unnerving shade of blue-white. It seemed to wipe all expression from her face, turning her into some shining-eyed alien statue.

"There you go," she soothed, still looking not quite human. "Just relax. You're safe. Kind of."

Jove forced himself to sit. Sparks still played up and down his arms. He could barely feel them. He pushed the Arc further away and they died.

The glow faded, too, and the woman slumped in relief against the opposite wall. She looked… well, like a mess. She was sopping wet, hair sticking up in clumps, face absolutely haggard now it wasn't washed in neon light. "You _scared_ me," she said, sounding suddenly weak.

"You saved my life," Jove croaked. "Twice. You've saved my life twice now."

An unidentifiable expression moved across her features. "Don't get all… all _reverent_ about it," she protested. "We're not out of this yet. There's a million ways to die before sunrise."

There was a minute of silence. Jove's breathing was too loud in his ears. He tried to distract himself by taking in his surroundings.

The two Guardians were in a partially-collapsed hallway. One wall leaned against the other, leaving not quite enough room to stand at the tallest end. The tiles used to be white at one point. You could see the original finish glimmering through the dust and dirt where there were drag marks. The place was dry, though, and warm enough that Jove wasn't shivering. One end of the hallway was open to the elements. The other lead off into darkness.

The Hunter was so hesitant it was funny. "You… good? Doing alright?" She sounded afraid, like he'd shatter at the lightest touch.

"I don't know," Jove answered truthfully.

There was a longer silence. Jove tried, he really did, but he couldn't stop the tears from welling in his eyes. He'd been so _scared_. Radomir would know what to say, Alekto would fuss over him, but neither of them were here. He'd almost died, gone right over the edge, and was there anyone even around to care about it?

He expected sass from the Hunter, maybe some brusque dismissal, but she was gentle. "Are you the type that wants me to ignore this, or…" she trailed off awkwardly.

"I-" Jove started. He should say yes. But he couldn't.

"Alright," the Hunter said blandly. Her tone brokered no argument. She stood up, dusted herself off, and for a horrible second Jove thought she was going to walk out into the rain and leave him-

But she just shuffled across the hallway and moved to sit beside the Warlock, close enough to touch. "You're gonna be fine," she soothed. "Nothing's gonna happen to you."

(It fell flat. It seemed she was a terrible liar.)

"You don't know," Jove said. He hated how wobbly his voice was.

"I don't know a lot about Stormcallers," she admitted. "As far as I understand, they're usually old? They're a lot less common than Voidwalkers or Sunsingers. I don't think I've ever heard of a Kinderguardian calling Arc storms."

Like that made him feel any better. "I'm just a weirdo, then," he said bitterly.

"I know how that feels," she said. "I really do."

"You're not _weird_," Jove protested. She was competent and keen-eyed and in control of everything. Everything he thought a Guardian was supposed to be. "You… you're so-"

"I'm the only Arcstrider currently living," she explained. "Never met another, probably never will. Every other Hunter looks at the Arc differently than I do. Always been that way. I'm_ very_ weird."

She held out her hands and lightning played in them. "Nobody's ever going to quite _get_ me, you know?" Jove heard the wistfulness in her tone. Her face was pensive in the Arc-light. "It's all new. I've had to learn everything on my own."

She clenched her fists and the sparks died instantly. "That made me strong," she said, with steel in her voice this time. She looked straight at Jove, and he could see the fire in her eyes. "It's a _good_ thing. And this… this is a good thing, too."

"I don't want to be different," Jove protested. He just wanted to go home. To have a home.

She shook her head. "Our differences make us stronger in the whole. That's what sets us apart from the Fallen and the Vex and all the rest of them. When we are different, even when that difference might be considered a weakness, we celebrate it. Or at least we don't try to smother it."

She frowned. "At least most of the time."

"You don't say that like it's true," Jove muttered.

"I can't promise you it'll be perfect," she said. "I can't promise you anything. I can't promise, even, that both of us will live through the night. It might suck. But what I can say is that this," she took his hand, thumbs pressing into his palm so hard he could feel the Arc in his bones, "Everything good sucks once in a while. This is an _opportunity_. Take it, waste it, whatever. I'm not going to tell you how to live your life. But this is not a curse."

And Jove believed her. She had such conviction. His Ghost appeared to rest on his shoulder, a silent affirmation that he'd always have someone on his side.

Outside, the rain _stopped_.

Azra looked utterly stupefied. It was funny- she went from tired, but determined and warm, to eye-bulging confusion in a heartbeat.

She scrambled for the gaping hole in the wall. Jove followed.

Together, the two of them stood under the open sky. The grass was wet, and though the sound of rainfall still pattered in the trees, no drops fell on Jove's upturned face.

The wind tossed the branches this way and that, then stilled. The clouds dissipated above them. Jove saw a star peek through, then two, then suddenly he was staring up at the scattered constellations and the black infinity between them.

"If the storm was weird," the Hunter muttered, "I don't have words for this."

"I'm sorry, I haven't seen it rain, really- is that not how it always happens?" Jove asked.

"No," Azra said. "_Very_ no. It should take hours for something like that to clear up." She reached upwards, cupping her hand like she could catch the stars between her fingers.

"Why did it happen, then? How did it happen?" Jove's mind was racing, trying to piece together the puzzle.

"I have some guesses," Azra muttered. "But it's nothing good. Must be why House Winter is so interested in this area."

"Could we track it?" Jove asked. "Find the epicenter. Is it just the side effect of something else? Or maybe it's terraforming equipment gone haywire, or-"

Azra interrupted. "We're not chasing that."

Jove had the lead of excitement now. Imagine if they could bring down storms like that on the Fallen whenever the wanted. "This could be life-changing! This technology could be really important."

"Yeah, but we'd die," she said casually. "We need to move. This is the only solid cover in twenty kilometers."

"So we should stay here in case the storm comes back," Jove said.

"So we need to _leave_, because if I were looking for a group of Guardians, and I knew a bad storm had just happened, this would be the first place I'd look." She held out a hand for her Ghost. The small machine projected a dim map into the air, which the Hunter proceeded to scowl at.

"We're going to have to," she muttered to the still air. "If they're looking for us- yeah, but that's a big gamble. We shook them, but they _were_ after us."

"Who are you talking to?" Jove ventured to ask.

"My Ghost." She put her hand down and the small machine disappeared. "The only way we'd be safe here is if they've given up the search, more concerned with whatever it is they're fighting over. House Winter, I'd take that bet, but Devils is trying to defend the area and they'd be on the lookout for sure. If not for us than for raiding parties. So no question, we have to move."

"But if it starts raining again…" If this was the only good cover for miles, they would be stuck out in the storm again.

"Planning on it," Azra said. "So we move fast. And we get the heck out of here before they catch up."

The Sparrow reappeared in a flash of light. The Hunter flicked a few buttons on the display. "The night's cracked anyway. We're booking it straight north. Only chance is to hit the cover of the mountains. The foliage is thick enough there to hide our heat. Hopefully far enough away to get out of whatever weather madness is happening here. Then we find the Indus, wait 'till it's daybreak, then take it south to our rendezvous."

She tossed Jove the extra helmet, finally making eye contact. "Coming with?"

* * *

TYPE: LIVE COMBAT FEED  
PARTIES: Two [2]. One [1] Guardian-type, Class Warlock, designate Jove [j]; One [1] Guardian-type, Class Hunter, designate Azra Jax [aj]  
ASSOCIATIONS: Jax, Azra; Jove; Kabul Exclusion Zone; the Last City; Stormcallers  
/AUDIO UNAVAILABLE/  
/TRANSCRIPT FOLLOWS.../

[j:01]: I have another question.

[aj:01]: Shoot.

[j:02]: How did you know I was a Warlock?

[aj:02]: It's really tempting to make jokes, here.

[j:03]: I'm confused enough as it is.

[aj:03]: Fine. Your friend Alekto told me. Even if she hadn't, I could smell it on you.

[j:04]: Warlocks smell like things?

[aj:04]: Not literally. It's a metaphor. For like… instinct. All the little things you don't pick up with your normal senses. You hold yourself like a Warlock.

[j:05]: And how do Warlocks hold themselves?

[aj:05]: Like the Light's never going to let you down. Like the ground is always going to be stable. Drenched in confidence.

[j:06]: I wouldn't say I'm confident.

[aj:06]: It's the little things. I'm not sure how else to explain.

[j:07]: I'm not sure if I can tell what about you is you being a Hunter and what is you being an experienced Guardian.

[aj:07]: I'm not sure where to start with that.

[j:08]: Can you tell right away when someone's Raised what they'll be?

[aj:08]: Sometimes. Could with me.

[j:09]: I can't imagine you being Risen for the first time.

[aj:09]: [Laughter]

[j:10]: What makes you a Hunter though, and me a Warlock?

[aj:10]: What makes you you and me me?

[j:11]: Am I supposed to have an answer for that? I don't know.

[aj:11]: Well, that's it. Nobody knows.

[j:12]: You're lying.

[aj:12]: What?

[j:13]: You're an absolutely horrific liar. You know. Or you think you know.

[Silence]

[aj:13]: You're an insightful one.

[j:14]: I… I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be that pushy.

[aj:14]: Seems only fair.

[aj:15]: You got all the obvious things, like Hunters live in the wilds, Warlocks like libraries, Hunters… well, hunt, poke our noses into things, Warlocks research and go after things deliberately.

[aj:16]: But those are all actions. Things that you do. They're not things that you are. That's the important bit.

[j:15]: Explain?

[aj:17]: Well, out here at least, to live… not just survive, you understand, but to live, you can't just do things. You gotta be things. Shooting quick only works once. Being a quick shot is more dependable.

[j:16]: I'm afraid I don't understand.

[aj:18]: Like you. You're curious, right? It makes you ask questions. But it's not the questions who you are, and it ain't the questions that'll lead you through the tough times. It's the curiosity. You can't focus on the actions, just the habits that spawn them. That's the only thing that'll hold up under pressure.

[j:17]: So your logic is that you are a Hunter… because you're a Hunter.

[aj:19]: When you put it like that…

[j:18]: Is it all just stereotype, then? Is nothing fundamental? What happens to those who blur the boundaries?

[aj:20]: It's not concrete like that, Jove. I'm a Hunter because I decided I was. I wanted to be this. I'm sure if I sat down and mediated and studied, I could pull a Stormtrance. But I don't want to.

[aj:21]: And you don't want to get the experience necessary to pull a Staff. Or the Blades, as it were.

[j:19]: How do you know I don't?

[aj:22]: Tonight? It's been nothing. There is little peace out here.

[j:20]: You don't sound happy about that.

[aj:23]: I'll live for the excitement, but sometimes I want to go a few weeks without being blown up or stabbed.

[j:21]: How do you know that you're supposed to be out here?

[aj:24]: The person I have to be to live in the City... she feels fake. It feels untrue to everything else I've learned about this world. Those habits feel unnatural, they always have. And even if I could choose, if I could shut off those parts of my brain that don't let me fit in… how could I want to, after seeing this?

[Silence]

[j:22]: They're just stars to me.

[aj:25]: Maybe that's the difference. 'Cause like, Traveler, is there anything more precious?

[j:23]: I can think of a few things.

[Silence]

[j:24]: Are you okay?

[aj:26]: Yeah. Get your sleep. Sunrise is in ninety minutes.


	13. Part 3: Learn to Be Okay

When have you ever known the world to be a fair place?  
All things end and all things change  
You'll look back and laugh someday  
Or at least you'll learn to be okay

Can't Go Back – The Crane Wives

* * *

April 05, 2884, 12:20; Somewhere NW of Old Multan, Earth

They reached the rendezvous point around noon. It wasn't actually in Multan proper- indeed the city still lay several dozen kilometers south and east. The urban center wouldn't be a great place to gather. Logically someone would set up a catch point along the river. All they had to do was head in the general direction of Multan and they'd inevitably run into each other. Andal was beginning to think of setting up the catch point himself when he got the ping. They weren't the first ones here. (It wasn't unexpected. Shiro would have been able to travel fast and light on his lonesome.)

The two vehicles pulled off into a stand of trees on the riverbank. Andal and Tevis dismounted easily, their two companions with a bit more uncertainty. They had been riding for several long hours.

The four Guardians had spent the night holed up in the crumbling remains of a temple at the southern edge of the mountainous area. With two veterans to split the watch, they'd all managed to get at least a little sleep. They'd run afoul of three different Hose Devils patrols before they reached the river, but from then it had been smooth sailing.

Andal was ready for a rest, though. He shook off the stiffness from riding and made for the friendly signature on his radar.

It turned out to be friendly signat_ures_, plural. Shiro he was expecting. Cayde, he was not. The Gunslinger was fussing over his Hand Cannon when the four Guardians of Andal's party shouldered their way through the undergrowth.

Shiro leapt nimbly from his lookout post on a tall tree. He and Andal hugged briefly. The Exo's grip was reassuringly strong, and Andal felt a little bit of his anxiety fade. These two at least were no worse for wear.

The leader didn't have to do anything more than raise an eyebrow and glance at Cayde before Shiro began spilling his story. "More Fallen showed up at my post. Cayde made the call to come rescue me. I probably could have gotten them all, but it could have easily gone the other way. Azra took the Kinderguardian."

"They headed east, then south," Cayde supplied from his seat. He was fully absorbed in his gun maintenance. He didn't even look up until Andal nudged him with his boot toe. "I'm not worried," the Exo said lightly. "It looked like the Fallen cleared out a bit before Azra and I got there."

"But Jove-" Radomir said.

"We got him up," Cayde answered in dismissal. "The Fallen didn't steal his clothes, at least, but it appears you guys are down some equipment. Not like it matters much now. He was fine last I saw him."

"So what do we do?" Alekto asked. She seemed caught, not willing to pace but almost unable to stand still. She wrung her hands.

Andal sighed and sat down next to Cayde. "We wait for Azra and Jove to show up."

"What if they don't come?" Radomir asked.

"They'll come," Andal said. It wasn't a question in his mind. (Yet.)

Radomir seemed mollified. Alekto did not. "But what if?" the Warlock pressed.

"Then we send you two off with one of the ships and we go back north after them," Andal said as smoothly as he could.

"How are you going to find them in the dead zone?"

The Gunslinger shook his head and began breaking down his own Hand Cannon. "We'll have to deal with that when, and if, we have to go looking for them. Don't count your bridges before they hatch."

* * *

The day wore on. Shiro handed his watch over to Tevis. Cayde struggled with his damaged Hand Cannon until his fellow Exo offered his gunsmithing services. Shiro managed to get the piece in working condition, but Andal bet Cayde would make a beeline for Banshee the moment they set down in the Tower. Alekto and Radomir intermittently rested and talked in hushed tones. Andal wrote his report and then dozed in the shade.

He was roused mid-afternoon by a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Managed to get a few minutes of good signal to the Net," Shiro explained. "I was wondering why the river level was so high, so I pulled the meteorological records. Check this." Andal rubbed the sleep from his eyes and took the projection.

The Bladedancer continued as Andal scanned the file. "There's evidence of odd storms systems last night. Radar shows the entire area between Kabul and Islamabad going haywire. Supercells forming and dissipating within hours. Tornadoes, even. It's calmed down now, but Azra and Jove would have been caught in it."

Andal frowned at the data. "That isn't normal for this climate. Is there a history of bad weather in this spot?"

"Next time I get a link to the Archives I'll check," Shiro said.

"That'll explain why them two are taking so long," Cayde yawned. Andal hadn't thought him to be awake. "They probably had a rough night, taking it slow."

Andal studied the descending sun. "We'll wait for nightfall, then."

* * *

Cayde took third watch. Andal was better rested at this point, but he could tell the other Gunslinger felt guilty and let him have the work. He sat with Alekto and Radomir instead, answering their endless questions. Having to comfort them about their missing teammate didn't ease his own fears.

They were old fears. Andal hated to split his pack up, but it was just tactically smart sometimes to divide and conquer. He still worried whenever one of them was out of contact. Especially just one of them- Azra and Cayde could get through anything together. Azra on her lonesome was a lot more vulnerable.

The sun sank lower. Andal reluctantly began making plans to send the Kinderguardians back to the City and head out in search of the wayward Arcstrider and her charge. He figured backtracking to their last known location and following their trail was the best bet. It wasn't necessarily a good bet, since the storms would muddy their tracking waters something fierce. Maybe they would leave a beacon at their catch point just in case.

The sun had just touched the treetops when a Sparrow shot past on the river. Cayde yelled from his perch, startling all of them from their various lounging places. The Exo descended the lookout tree in haste. The four Hunters made it to the riverside in time to see the vehicle perform a faltering turn and head back towards them, this time at a more reasonable pace. It feathered its way onto shore.

There was a collective sigh of relief to see two able-bodied Guardians climb off. The Hunter's cape was wrinkled and caked in mud along the bottom. Her knees, shins, and gloves were similarly dirt-stained. The Warlock was dirty all over and wearing a helmet too big for his head. Andal recognized it as one of Azra's spares.

The two pulled off their headgear. They both looked a little worse for wear. Azra's hair stuck up every direction. Jove's was too short to, but his face was streaked with grime. The two trudged up the short incline to the rest of the group, weariness obvious.

Jove was immediately engulphed in a group hug from his friends. Azra received a similarly exuberant checking-over, to which she rolled her eyes but did not protest. "Sorry we're late," she said, "we didn't get on the river until after noon."

"We figured something had held you up," Tevis said.

"'Something' in this case turned out to be a very touchy Captain and his unreasonably fast Skiff." Her words didn't have the usual cheer behind the joking. She seemed a bit shaken. Andal noted an unusual fractal burn pattern tracing up her arms and across her torso. "Also Jove got struck by lightning. It was… a fun night."

"Wait," Tevis said with sudden sharp-edged interest. "He got struck by lightning, or he got _struck_-"

"The second one," Azra interrupted. "Unfortunately."

"Back up a few steps, start again," Andal commanded. "From the beginning."

Azra took off her gloves and unstrapped her scorched forearm guards as she talked. "We shook the Fallen tailing us and stopped for a few hours at nightfall," she reported. "But then there was a storm, a big one, out of nowhere. That doesn't just happen in this region. I was worried about flash floods, so we made for higher ground, and there was this observatory or something- good cover, but we had to cross a field to get there and Jove got struck by _lightning_."

"And?" Tevis asked in lead.

"He, uh… didn't die. You ever heard of someone becoming a Stormcaller on accident?" Azra asked.

Tevis's frown said no. Andal himself had certainly never heard of such a thing. "Why do you sound so worried?" he asked.

She hugged her elbows, looking troubled. "He almost…" she trailed off. Andal noted with a bit of concern the sparks jumping between her fingers. "He came back screaming," Azra stated blandly (too blandly), "I had to talk him down. Really didn't think he was going to make it."

"Jesus," Cayde swore.

Andal eyed up the Warlock across the clearing. Radomir had a hand on his shoulder, speaking with some emotion. Jove looked unsteady as Azra did, but otherwise alright. "Well, he doesn't appear to be dead or crazy," Andal pointed out. "So I'd say good job."

Azra relaxed a little bit. "Right. The storm went on for maybe an hour at most. Like twenty minutes after we got to cover it cleared up. And I mean- one minute it's pouring rain, the next the wind dies and the stars are out."

"Told you it was something weird," Shiro said.

"The observatory was an obvious spot to hole up, and I figured House of Devils was still looking, so we cleared out. Made a sprint for those mountains to the north. Caught a few more minor storms over the night but it seemed we managed to get to the edges of… whatever that was. Stopped for maybe ninety minutes before sunrise. Then we got spotted by some House of Winter hotshot and had to shake him before we could make for the river."

"Shaking him ended up being finding a functioning auto cannon north of Peshwar and shooting him down," Spark reported, "Then we high-tailed it south to here. End statement."

"Sounds like quite the night," Cayde said appreciatively.

"Jove is officially the coolest Kinderguardian," Spark bragged. "He's fired the biggest gun."

"Wait, you let him have the auto cannon?" Cayde sounded offended now.

Azra shrugged. "Someone had to distract the Skiff and he's not good on a Sparrow yet."

Cayde threw up his hands in disgust. "Oh, I never get to man the turrets when we go in military bases, but you just give the Kinderguardian an _auto cannon_?"

Tevis put a thoughtful hand to his chin. "Maybe it's because he can actually aim. Wasn't it last time when we found that anti-aircraft gun in the Cosmodrome, you went four to nil with that Devils Skiff?"

"The sights were all cockeyed!" Cayde shouted. The Kinderguardians looked over from their cluster.

"Hey," Andal interrupted before any more words could be said. "Discussion for another day. I think the Vanguard could use a scouting report, and the rest of us could use a shower."

Azra frowned and looked back upriver.

"We'll come back tomorrow and investigate the storm situation," Andal promised, "but you've been on the move all night. Give it a few hours at least."

"Plus, don't want to leave the Kinderguardians to discover the City all by themselves, right?" Tevis drawled.

There was a moment's hesitation. "Damn you, Tevis," Azra said.

Tevis grinned. "I got you and you know it."

"Someone's gotten a little attached," Cayde teased.

Azra glared in a very not-teasing way and strapped her forearm guards back on with force. Cayde dropped his smile and took a step back.

"Rougher night, then," Tevis muttered.

"Just shook me is all," Azra replied. "He's new. And he's weird. I remember being new and weird."

"I suppose that's a recipe for a little self-projection," Andal mused. "And you had to walk him back from the edge?"

"I dunno what dangers Strikers can get themselves into if they go too deep," Azra said, "but Stormcaller problems… aren't pretty."

"Maybe we should call Wen Jie," Tevis said.

Cayde frowned. "Wen Jie? Isn't she the one that believes in fairies?"

"Strange problems require strange solutions," was all Tevis had to say.

Andal sighed. "She's a good Stormcaller, though. Why don't you drop her a line?"

Azra seemed mollified. "Well, it's better than just handing him over to Osiris."

"Then let's roll!" Cade announced. "Dinner's getting cold."

* * *

April 05, 2884, 11:02 (Tower Time); The Last City, Earth

The Tower was glorious, just as promised. The eight Guardians transmatted onto the concourse together. It was a clear day, stunningly bright with no foliage to block the sunlight.

There was someone waiting for them. A Warlock in white and pale blue approached them as soon as they touched down. Azra vaguely recognized her robes. She didn't spend much time hanging around tower-bound Guardians. Spark informed her that this was indeed Wen Jie: Praxic, Stormcaller, and apparently, cryptid enthusiast.

"A little fairy told me you'd like to talk," Wen said.

Azra shot Tevis a look. The Nightstalker tilted his head. "You calling me a fairy?"

"Yeah," Cayde added. "If anything, he's a goblin."

Tevis shot Cayde a glare. The Gunslinger just cackled and took a step behind Andal.

"I was speaking of your Ghost," the Warlock said. "But it matters not. You."

She brushed through their group and place placed her hands on Jove's shoulders. The younger Warlock froze in confusion as Wen and looked him up and down. She chuckled. "Well, well. A little baby Stormcaller. We don't usually have those."

"Uh…." Jove said, clearly at a loss.

Azra couldn't stop herself from tensing up. One backwards glance from Jove and she was going to butt in, manners be damned.

"There's no need to be so sharp, Hunter," Wen said smoothly. "I intend no harm upon our new Warlock. Quite the opposite, in fact." The elder Stormcaller released Jove's shoulders and took a step back. She turned to speak to Azra but stopped before any words formed. She tilted her head in thoughtfulness. "You're that Arcstrider, aren't you?"

"And what if I am?" Azra challenged back.

Wen tapped her chin. "Then this would be quite a coincidence." Azra didn't like that word- _coincidence_. She liked the way Wen Jie said it even less. "You said he was struck by lightning, did you not? Was the lightning yours?"

As if Azra had that poor of control. "No," she said, not trying to hide her offense. "Something's making the weather near Kabul go crazy. Stirred up a thunderstorm. Maybe it wasn't natural-made, per se, but it wasn't mine. Like I'd go around zapping people."

"I think the coincidence was in my survival," Jove said, finally having found his voice. "I… it wasn't easy. What happened. I don't think I could have done it alone. Azra talked me through it."

Wen Jie frowned slightly. "And what did Azra tell you, young spark?"

Jove stuttered on. "She told me to breathe. She told me that I can't fight the Arc, that I shouldn't. She helped walk me back out of the current. She said-" he took a breath, and it did Azra proud to see his shoulders straighten in determination- "She said maybe this wasn't normal, but that it was a good thing. That this is an opportunity, that we're stronger because we're different."

Wen Jie looked back at Azra, thoughtfulness on her features. Azra crossed her arms. "The same old roads only lead to the same destinations," she said. "It's… what I should have heard when I was new."

"It's what was _said_," Andal interrupted. He looked… hurt? "Did…"

"Maybe I'm not the best listener," Azra said offhand. "Maybe I heard something else first." She looked steady at Wen. "If you screw him up, you'll answer to me," she warned. "I've seen _that _particular road. Nobody walks it on my watch."

"Like I said, I mean nothing but the best for young Jove." The Warlock turned to look at the aforementioned Kinderguardian. "You will have to learn Stormcalling and the more traditional Warlock arts at the same time. Your Hunter friend was right, this is not normal."

"But it's not bad," Jove said with that fierce bit of pride still in his voice.

Wen Jie finally smiled. "No, it is not. The normal is boring. The normal is a uniform material, pure metal. There is a reason we alloy."

"Walk with me, Jove," Wen nodded at Radomir and Alekto too. "And you two as well. I can introduce you to the Vanguard and show you the Tower. It is an exciting time, yes? Let us free these Hunters to go back to their pursuits."

Radomir turned back towards Andal with a frown. "Are you really going to leave? So soon?"

Andal did a half-shrug, half-nod. "Might hang for a few hours, but time's a-wasting. I'll drop you a line whenever you get access to the Net. If you need advice or anything." he'd seen plenty of Kinderguardians come and go. Titans and Warlocks rarely took him up on his offer.

Radomir seemed confused. "You just got here, though."

Wen Jie stepped forward. "Out there is their strength, and here is their weakness. It might not be our way, but I will respect it. That way is why you still draw breath."

Andal nodded. "I'm concerned about House Winter getting ahold of terraforming equipment. And since there's the interdiction now, the Vanguard won't send a party to investigate. Somebody has to, even if it means we get a little wet."

Spark asked Azra a small question, whisper-quiet in her mind. She started, remembering herself.

The Arcstrider stepped forward, grabbing the young Stormcaller by the elbow. "Jove, you need like… anything. You wanna talk, you got questions, or need me to like, stab somebody for you-" she ignored the sniggers from Cayde and forged on. "I'm down. Anytime."

She pulled the young Warlock closer, lowered her voice for as much privacy could be made in such an open place. "I know how it can feel like nobody's on your side, sometimes. You've got me, at least." She side-eyed Radomir and Alekto, who were frowning with impatience and taking in the view from the Wall respectively. "And keep those two close. We all need people to ground us, right?"

"If you don't hurry up, you're forfeiting your vote for dinner," Cayde called casually. Azra reluctantly let Jove go.

He grabbed her arm instead. "I will," he reassured. "And I won't forget what you have done."

"It's not _that_ big of a deal," Azra insisted.

The young Warlock shook his head. "It is to me. How can it not be?"

"Noodle-death is impending!" Shiro called.

Jove's face screwed in confusion. "Noodle-death?"

Azra sighed. "Don't ask. I need to go."

"I'll speak with you later, then."

Azra shoved his back, pushing him towards where Radomir, Alekto, and Wen Jie waited. "Keep looking forward, and you'll make it though anything. Until next time."

"Until next time," the Warlock agreed.


	14. No Honor in Suffering

And I would whistle in the dark  
'Cause I felt safe while all alone  
Well, it's time that I let all the dead be the dead  
There's no honor in suffering  
No reward 'cause you've bled  
The rest can sort itself out

Guilt – Radical Face

* * *

?

_You go to the dark plane with the tower. The land is fertile but you don't think you are here to farm. You're here to fight- just one soldier of many. The grass is trampled underfoot from the army, broken and ground into the hard-packed dirt that could hold fields of golden millet if it weren't a warzone._

_The sun sets between a notch in the mountains, casting fractal patterns on the ground. You can't tell if they are river tributaries or synapses or Lichtenberg scars. They spider their way across the land, casting unreal shadows upon the people and the spaces between them._

_The fighting has already begun. There are some faces here you recognize but there are plenty that you don't. You know this is not your dream. You wander towards the chaos with a detached sense of curiosity. You, at least, have no real urge for violence._

_Suddenly he is there- the owner of this place, or perhaps its prisoner. He is more real than the space around him, in dull brown and brilliant orange. There is an unfamiliar shotgun in his hands and an even more unfamiliar mask of rage on his face._

_He brings the gun up and you spin out of the way automatically. He's almost as fast as you, so you still take a grazing shot to the side. The pain of it surprises you- isn't this a dream? You end up on your back on the dusty earth, stunned. Shiro-4 plants a boot on your chest and aims the shotgun at your head._

* * *

Azra woke with a start. It was dark and would be unpleasantly cool if she weren't wrapped around Cayde. His presence immediately took the edge of fear away. Azra extricated herself and sat up, blinking. Her eyes refused to adjust to the dark.

Right. They'd made camp in a small cave smack dab in the middle of the old American Empire. Being underground would hold the temperature steady through the colder nights. It also made it literally impossible to see.

Spark cast his dimmest flashlight at the ceiling. The ambient light it scattered was more than enough to make out her surroundings. There were the sprawled forms of the other Hunters, all solidly unconscious. Her eyes picked out the familiar shoulder of Shiro-4 on the far side of the pile. He seemed just as dead to the world as he always did sleeping. He was even snoring lightly.

There was something wrong, still. It only took a second to realize, another to double-count, but yes, there were only four people in the room. Shiro, Tevis, her, and Cayde. She sighed. Of course_ he'd_ be up still.

She shifted carefully to not wake her little spoon and threw on a jacket over her sleepwear. After a moment's hesitation, she settled her cloak over top, though she left the hood down. Spark extinguished his light and the two made their way out of the cave by touch.

* * *

December 02, 2785; Crew's Camp, Sloan's Valley, Old America, Earth

The last vestiges of the dream faded away as Azra slipped into the cool night air. She blinked owlishly at the firelight, so bright after the absolute black down below. Andal had the fire roaring. It was hot enough to melt the thin layer of frost that had gathered on the stone and wood of the hillside.

Andal looked worse for wear. He was tapping a pen idly on his notebook, face propped up in one hand as he stared at the shifting flames. His distant expression shifted to one of concern as he caught sight of Azra.

He straightened almost guiltily. "What're you doing up?" he asked. Azra just quirked an eyebrow. The Gunslinger shook his head in defeat and moved to make room on his log. Azra slumped her way over, still stiff from sleep. She scrubbed the sand from her eyes and stared at the fire until her vision steadied.

* * *

Then

"Sit rep!" Andal called. Azra reloaded her sidearm with hurried fingers. Other voices echoed on the comms feed.

"Holding steady here!"

"Same!"

"There's at least three Wizards in that pit!"

"Hold off, then," Andal commanded. "That's a job for incendiaries. Word from Kresten's Ghost?"

"Nothing."

"Not getting pings from Jason-8, either!"

Azra herself was too busy to answer. Thrall came from the left and the right. She threw a grenade underhand at the further pack and emptied her clip into the closer one. No Thrall made it to her position, but the dank tunnel air was still ringing with screams.

A Boomer shot came streaking through from out of her range of awareness. It slammed her into the wall, shields breaking, helmet cracking loudly against the rough stone. She took a second to be grateful that she hadn't dropped her gun, that Boomers fired slowly, that she'd cleared the immediate area so she had time to blink the stars from her eyes.

More missiles screamed through the air around her. Acolytes added their voices to the song of destruction, purple shrieks whizzing through the air to accompany the blue-white Boomer shots. Azra pulled her scout rifle and bit back a few retorts. The Knight spun back into cover. The Acolytes weren't so fast.

But then there were more Thrall, forcing her back down the tunnel. Azra wished she'd gotten a hold of the invisibility trick by now. She could really use a few spare seconds to catch her breath and reload her weapons. She couldn't even hold her ground, much less push forward.

"Azra!" Andal's bark broke through her concentration. "I need-"

"Busy!" Azra gasped. She let the Arc flow, turned to the side, and kicked a bolt of lightning into the nearest Hive. It spiderwebbed out through the pack and the Thrall shrieks dissolved into the telltale tinkling of dead chitin. She placed a hand on the wall and took a second to let the world steady. Her mental tally came up positive. "…But I'm not in over my head. Yet." It was much Darker than they had been expecting, but Azra figured she could still pull a Staff on command.

_Pace yourself_, Spark chided, so Azra ducked the next time an Acolyte bolt came lancing out of the dim distance. She'd retreated to a brood chamber, which meant there was cover, if sparse. She'd popped all the eggs when she'd come through the first time. The ground was sticky with yellow-green fluids. "I'm in a brood chamber," she reported when she had the spare breath. "Heavy resistance ahead. Knights, Acolytes. Haven't seen the Broodqueen yet but she's bound to be down here somewhere."

"We're rallying on you," Andal said. "Hold there."

"I'll try my damnedest," Azra replied. Spark whisked the sidearm from her hands and deposited a short-barreled shotgun instead. They both heard the telltale heavy tread of the Knight's footsteps around the corner.

* * *

Now

The firelight was so bright that the dark circles under Andal's eyes were obvious. "You need rest, too," Azra chided softly once she was sure her voice wouldn't crack. "We have that Ishtar strike tomorrow-"

"I'll be good for the strike," Andal rumbled. "Don't worry about me."

"Too late," Azra said lightly. "I don't like it when you get all insomniac. Doesn't suit you." Or rather, it suited him too well. Andal was at his best when he wasn't worrying, but he always worried. She just hated to see him like this.

The silence that followed was almost oppressive. Azra rooted around in her hoodie pocket and fished out a glittering blue cube. She rolled it between her fingers. "Glimmer for your thoughts?"

Andal plucked the currency deftly from her hand. Azra was surprised. 'Glimmer for your thoughts' hardly ever worked. The Gunslinger pocketed the cube smoothly and sighed. There was a long pause. Azra wasn't worried, because he'd taken the payment, and he always kept his word.

"Should have seen it coming," Andal murmured eventually.

"How, exactly?" Azra asked. Their raid had gone poorly. People had died. But it hadn't been Andal's fault.

"My command," Andal said. "The intel was too sparse. I should have led us with more caution."

Azra frowned. "I read the debrief, just like you. You made all the right calls. Our info was just bad."

"Well maybe I shouldn't have had so much faith in the info. We should have been prepared for more than just a seedling Hive nest."

"Oh," Azra said. She let the silence hang for a minute, though she knew exactly what she was going to say. "I didn't know you were psychic, Andal. You're right, with your omniscience you definitely should have brought more reinforcements."

"I'm not joking-"

"Neither am I!" Azra said. "How could you reasonably look at that and think it was _your_ fault? Look, I scoured the reports as much as you did. You'd trust my judgement on something like this, right?"

Andal shifted, obviously uncomfortable. He did, but he didn't want to admit it. Azra continued. "The disturbance was only reported a few weeks ago. It's not like Cape Town is neglected for patrols. And the bedrock is hard. There's absolutely no reason to expect there to be that big of a nest."

"But there _was_ that big of a nest," Andal reminded. "And that should not have meant-"

Azra wasn't done. "Kresten was forward. So the ground wasn't steady and she broke through into a pit. That _happens_ when you're forward scout, Andal. You have to be careful even if you think there's nothing there. She wasn't." He grimaced, but Azra shrugged. "Not to be callous, but it's not on you if she got in over her head. You can't be cautious _for_ us, that's not how it works."

"And if I'd put you on point?" Andal asked bleakly.

Azra considered the question. It was only fair. "If you'd put me on point," she reasoned, "I wouldn't be waltzing about a Hive nest like I expect the floor to hold up." He looked at her skeptically, but she raised her chin in challenge. "Honestly then, Andal. Should we take twenty people to clear out the next seeder nest that pops up?"

Andal didn't speak, so Azra answered the question for him. "That's such a waste of resources and you know it. We're spread thin enough as it is. Or should we not risk Hive nests at all? Just let them fester and build until the Earth is as cracked as the Moon?"

"Kresten and Jason-8 are still dead, Azra," Andal said bitterly. "_Someone's_ got to take the blame. I was in charge."

"If I heard anyone else insinuating these things about you, I'd stab them on principle." She pulled her belt dagger, a warning flashing in her eyes.

Andal just shook his head and stared back at the fire. He was still too wrapped up in his head. This conversation was too important. Andal held his pen firmly like he was afraid what words would come out of it if he put it to paper. He spoke like the guilt would scar him.

He opened his mouth to speak.

Then he stopped, because Azra stabbed him. She knew just how much force was needed, exactly where to place the blade. It slipped between the thin armor plates he still wore easily.

Andal looked down at the hilt sticking out of his stomach with alarm. "You stabbed me," he stated.

Azra crossed her arms. "You were moping. Serves you right."

"You _stabbed_-" he cut himself off with a hiss of pain as he wrapped a hand around the grip. Azra knew how that felt. Shock and disbelief were fantastic painkillers, at least until the illusion broke.

The Gunslinger pulled the dagger from his side with a jerk and a grunt of exertion. Charin appeared to heal the wound. Andal stared at the red-slicked blade, then at Azra, that same confounded expression on his face. "…I'm keeping the knife," he finally said.

"That's fine," Azra said casually. "I have more." She held his gaze, daring him to say more dumb things to require more daggers to stab him with.

There was a moment of tension. Then Andal burst out laughing, so loud it startled Azra. It echoed off of the trees. Azra couldn't help but smile as the Gunslinger descended into giggles. Andal's Ghost took both the knife (guess Azra wasn't getting that back after all) and his notebook.

"Ah," Andal said, wiping tears from his eyes, "I needed that."

"Anyone else," Azra said, "Anyone but you and you wouldn't think to blame them. It's always got to be your fault."

The Gunslinger held out an arm. Azra scooched over obligingly and Andal rested his head on her shoulder. Azra wound a hand around his hip and tangled her fingers in his belt loops.

The Arcstrider frowned, not quite ready to let the conversation go. "Really, Andal, what would you _do_? It's not like we have tons of Guardians sitting around to call up for low-level stuff. Trying to map the nests with radar just riles the Hive up or makes 'em scatter. It took _months_ to root them all out from Australia."

"I know," Andal murmured.

"So what's the point in blaming yourself for this? What can you even say you'll do differently next time?"

"Next time," the Gunslinger mused, "I'll put _you_ on point."

Azra snorted at that suggestion. Andal tightened his grip on her shoulder. "No, really," he insisted. "You handled yourself well. You always handle yourself well. You said you could take point and… well, I've never seen you _over_estimate yourself."

Azra must have done something to express more doubt. Andal slapped her (rather ineffectually) with the hand he'd draped over her shoulder. "Serves you right," he quoted when Azra made an offended noise. Azra could do nothing but shrug.

"Why do you always try to argue with me," Andal murmured, "when I compliment you?" His hand fiddled idly with Azra's cape clasp.

"I guess for the same reason you're out here beating yourself up over something you know isn't your fault," Azra replied.

The Gunslinger chuckled at that. The two Hunters watched the fire wrap its fingers around the now-charred logs.

"I knew this was the right choice," Andal finally said.

"What was?" Azra asked.

"This," he said plainly. "You. I'm glad you're around to talk me out of my own head. Thank you."

Azra rested her cheek on his slightly greasy hair and thought there wasn't anywhere else she'd rather be. With the sweater and the cloak and the fire it was too warm, but she didn't care. She closed her eyes, drinking the moment in through her Lightsense. The world dipped and swayed slightly.

"Promise me something," Andal murmured.

"'Course," Azra said.

She didn't really hear what he said asked. She was warm and safe and Andal was safe too. It seemed like the most natural thing in the world to drift off.

* * *

?

"What are we going to do with you two," Shiro muttered. Azra blinked blearily up at him. Andal groaned and shifted. The fire had burned down low at some point, though it was still very dark out. Shiro-4 stood over the two semiconscious Hunters, hands on his hips.

"I blame Andal," Azra said. The Gunslinger let out a short bark of laughter in response and levered himself more upright. Azra followed suit halfheartedly. She'd been so comfortable lying still, but now she'd moved her neck and shoulder were making their complaints known.

Shiro was gentle at least, offering a hand to pull Azra to her feet. "Let's get you two inside. I hear sleeping works best when you're lying down."

"Alright," Andal muttered. "Laying on the sarcasm a bit thick there." He slouched ahead, shuffling awkwardly through the cave entrance.

Shiro helped steady Azra when it turned out one of her legs was asleep. The two Hunters contemplated the tail end of Andal's cape as it slipped underground. "Is he doing alright?" Shiro asked, low and quiet.

"Yeah," Azra said. "He's fine." She felt she could say that with confidence.

"Hate it when he gets mopey," the Bladedancer muttered.

Azra frowned and flexed her toes. Something faint stirred her memory. Her brain was still scrambled from sleep. "Did you… shoot me in the head recently?" She shifted her weight as the pins-and-needles faded.

Shiro paused. When he spoke, he sound almost _insulted_. "Well maybe stay in your own dreams and you won't be the one getting shot next time."

So it _had_ been a dream. Well, this Arcstrider had done enough work for the night. "Nah," Azra said. "Asking me to stay put? You should know better." She limped her way towards the cave entrance.

Shiro followed, exasperated. "Well, wherever you go, try and get some sleep. We have that strike in Ishtar in five hours."

* * *

**NOTE: **Hey! So this is the last side piece* I had written that I wanted to flesh out into more than just a snippet (at least that happens before the Red War). We're looking at a temporary end, hiatus, or at the very least slow-down for this volume.

*Second-to-last piece. Throughout the writing process I've ended up making a sort of 'story bible' for myself to reference to help keep internal consistency. I'm in the process of turning that into a pseudo-wiki for the funsies because I hate myself.

If you have any characters or events you'd like more info on, or any questions about this universe answered, feel free to drop me a line in the comments or my PMs. For extra anonymity you could also poke me in the Tumblr (poorlytunedukulele) I created years ago and will never post anything on! Ask me questions, ask the omniscient narrator questions, ask the characters questions! Projectile vomit word babble onto my screen! Alternate timelines? What-ifs? Never-before-seen scenes? Things I mentioned once and forgot ever existed? Anything might make it into the wiki or inspire additional chapters.

I do want to make it clear I am not taking requests, per se, because if I don't want to write something it's not going to get written. The only guarantee I can offer is that I will go 'hmmmmmm' for a few minutes and see if the inspiration fairy shows up.

That's it for right now. Catch you on the flipside, and Happy Hunting!


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